Tears of a Basilisk
by Vetis
Summary: Harry tells the true accounts of his Hogwarts adventures, revealing many shocking secrets. Slytherin!Harry, Character death, eventual MxM slash, slight noncon, lots of snarky humour, AU after OOTP.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: Not mine, just taking them out to play for a bit.

**Prologue:**

Shadows abound in the musty corridors of Hogwarts. Some find solace in the darkness, a place to hide from the world or just to relax in dark's comforting embrace. Others shun the shadows and darkness, fearing the loss of light which allows them to pretend that they have some control over their lives. There was one, however, who did not fear the shadows, nor embraced them, but rather used them in ways that shook this school to its foundation.

Despite a life that was later found out to be one of nothing but constant pain and hardship, he did not waver in the end, and with his actions he protected us all. Those who had shunned him, hurt him, and made his life far worse than any of us could possibly dream, were saved by the very creature we helped condemn. I can't help but think that this was, in some way, the greatest prank ever played, something that the Marauders of old would have loved to claim. Perhaps he's somewhere looking at us now, laughing to himself as those who survived live each day with the almost crushing weight of well deserved guilt. Just the thought produces a feeling akin to cold water running down my spine, considering the note on which we parted.

For those of you who have the stomach, let me relate the tale of our cursed savior, who was known to most as Harry Potter, but like everything else about him we aren't even certain that this was his real name. Very few have access to most of the story as it really happened, and only four other individuals have experienced the agony which is Harry's old pensieve, so this account of events will be as accurate as possible under the circumstances. Since no one living knows the full story, I will transcribe some of the late savior's notes and journal, which were for some reason left into my custody, into this account. One of the only constants in his life was a deep hatred of lies and skewed perceptions, so I will try to do justice to this brave, cunning, damned savior.


	2. Chapter 1

_Journal entry-?_

_I would put a date, but what's the bloody point. Hard to tell, all days are blurring together. Why am I starting this journal, when I supposedly have so many confidants that see me as a true-blue happy-go-lucky friend and would never hesitate to let me pour my heart out? Gee, could it be because everyone, from my very birth, has used me as simply a means to an end, and the friends are disgusting examples of humanity. Ah yessss, that's a realization I came to a while ago, when I lay dying from basilisk venom. Wizards, muggles, they're the same bloody species, one just has a specific genetic mutation. If they were so bloody different, then there wouldn't be any interbreeding, would there now? They're all humans, the single most self-destructive species on the planet, and they have equal chances of being horrible wastes of life. _

_I speak as if I am not part of the huddled pathetic masses, which is for the most part true. My sometimes fans/lynch mob did get one thing right, I am not like them. If I am to look deep within my heart, I am not inclined to show mercy to any of those dirty humans. Yet even now I strive to protect a good number of them from a threat that no one save myself is aware of. I do this not for those wastes of space, but for the school, and the innocents it was built for. Lunacy, this may sound like, but dear Hogwarts, _my_ Hogwarts, has been corrupted and turned away from its original purpose; to provide a safe place for children with magic potential to learn and grow into responsible adults without fear of harassment from the fearful mobs. Instead, it is traded and treated like a status symbol and sometimes fortress, children are no longer safe to walk its halls, and as I know from first hand experience most of the staff has no interest in the welfare of the students beyond academics, otherwise my situation would have been discovered almost instantly. Not only did they ignore the very obvious signs of abuse, but did not even blink when I emerged from the Chamber as a completely different individual. _

_Despite that, my disgust and hatred was cemented when a complete and total lie about my heritage was told to me by one claiming that he truly cared about my welfare, eye contact and everything. That, my dear stained pages, was the breaking point. If I had a chance, I would have made a fine professional actor. Since that day, I have been working on this problem, and soon it will all be resolved. Just in time, my strength is failing slightly each day. I just need to hold on a bit longer, and then finally I can rest. _

He would have been much more than a fine professional actor, he would have been one of the best. We were all fooled by the Boy-Who-Lived act, and never suspected that his dear friends or family would ever do more than scold him. One of the most galling aspects of these events was that I, a trained spy for whom survival depended on keen observations and perceptions, was blind to his plight. My hatred for events long passed blinded me, so that even if some part of me had picked up on his true nature or situation I would have immediately dismissed my observations. What things would have been like, I often wonder, if someone had stepped in at the crucial time. If he had one person he could have turned to, trusted, then maybe his last years would not have been as they were.

His journal, left to me in his will with various other items that I will cover later in this narrative, often reads like the most fantastic novel, one that would be a fantasy bestseller in the muggle realm, yet at the same time it plagues my existence. I have seen many atrocities in my life, many of which would send weaker-minded people straight to St. Mungo's, but my hands tremble as I turn the page, trying to fight the occasional wave of nausea. I digress, perhaps I should begin this tale at the most logical place, which would be Harry's second year in Hogwarts, by all memory an extraordinary, tragic year but none suspected the scope of our transgressions.

_-S.S._


	3. Chapter 2

_Journal entry the second_

_I hope I won't have to resort to using a dicta-quill. Ever since that annoying bug Rita Skeeter I haven't been able to stand the sight of them. If my hands get too shaky to write clearly, I might have no other option. Hm, I could always try to make a spell for it, like voice recognition software for computers. Anyway, since this is the second entry, let us chat about my second year. The events leading up to that point, my stay with the Durstleys and first year, are fairly minor in comparison, and I will cover them anyway throughout the journal. My second year at Hogwarts started out much like the first, ie I was bewildered and in a state of perpetual confusion. Having grown up thinking magic involved top hats, rabbits, and pulling money out of various body parts, I was naturally in a state of culture shock. Of course, no one noticed or cared and treated me like some type of imbecile because I had no knowledge of the nuances of the wizarding world. I was used to that by this point, so I tuned it out while giving them the reactions and answers they expected. It does no good to anger people who know more about your past than you, and who have power over your continued existence. I knew right away Lockhart had even less magic than the top hat-rabbit magicians that would perform at Dudders' birthday parties. Kept that tidbit to myself, since showing an argumentative side and/or showing that I wasn't one of the sheep after all would have made my life even harder. I know that I sound like a pure Slytherin, well, the Hat was more right than it knew in its desire to put me in that house, but I would likely have died very quickly in that house at the hands of the traitorous public, so after much arguing and persuasion I got the Hat to put me in Gryffindor. How did I do that, you might wonder? I just convinced the Hat that putting the ultimate Slytherin in Gryffindor would fit with the archetype, get to know one's enemies in their own den. _

_I digress, the real drama in my second year started when I began hearing the basilisk. Yes, I knew it was a basilisk, and I've known I was a Speaker since I was five. We had some interesting conversations, the basilisk and I. He told me that someone, a red haired girl with a possessed look in her eyes was going around hitting people with stunning and petrifying spells, blaming it on "Slytherin's Monster". Sylvain, that would be the basilisk's name, was concerned that someone, especially the students, might get seriously hurt or killed, and asked me if I would help him find out how the girl, who I deduced to be Ginny Weasley, was being controlled, and by whom. Turns out Sylvain was right, it was only a matter of time before the possessor escalated. I had the presence of mind to follow Ginny in secret, and that is the only reason that Colin Creevey lives to this day. I saw that Ginny certainly wasn't in the driver's seat of her own body, but I was still shocked to hear her lips begin to utter the Killing Curse. Unable to stop the curse from leaving her wand, I instead jumped in front of Colin and took the full force of the amateurish but still powerful Avada Kevadra. Disbelief, I'm sure, is all over your expression, so I shall reveal yet another one of my secrets: Due to my heritage, which even then I was partially aware of through my own research, I am one of the only creatures to have an immunity to the killing curse. I won't reveal how I found this out, at least yet, it's fairly inconsequential at the moment. With Colin now out of death's way, the Ginny creature looked confused that the curse disappeared into seeming thin air (thank you invisibility cloak), and resorted to the petrifying spell. I knew that I had to talk with Sylvain about this latest development, so I started looking around for an entrance into Slytherin's chamber. I did this in between schoolwork and classes, chatting with Sylvain in my spare moments when I had some time to myself. _

_Things went fairly calmly for a while, I kept following Ginny and talking with Sylvain, until the fateful day of Lockhart's dueling club. It was great to see my dear Professor Snape hex that man back to the 8th century, but things went downhill from that point. When I was called to duel Draco, I was apprehensive on how I should act. From my research, I knew battle spells that would shame most Aurors, but completely trouncing the Malfoy heir seemed like a phenomenally stupid thing to do. What little pride I had left at that point balked at letting him beat me, so I was still lost in thought when Draco sealed my fate in the eyes of the public by casting Serpentsortia. Distracted as I was, I forgot that Speaking was viewed as evil in these days, and my constant exposure to Sylvain, who is a wonderfully smart, sarcastic, entertaining person, I Spoke to the poor summoned snake, who was confused and disoriented enough to try attacking a human out of self-defense. That was my last unintentional foolish act, any other actions of mine that seemed foolish or stupid were actually calculated to have that effect. I was used to not having humans on my side, but the next few months were extremely trying. I almost hexed those traitors Ron and Hermione with their constant hate-spewing on snakes, Slytherins, and Speakers in general. That incident, as horrible as it was, did have one positive aspect: it revealed to me the person who was controlling poor Ginny, who along with the twins are the only Weasleys to have brains of their owns. The person was not the specter of a young Tom Marvolo Riddle, as the official version states, but none other than the oh-so-great meddling old coot, Albus Dumbledore. Shock, disbelief, yes, yes, I know, it's hard to believe, but true. It was all a setup to give me another chance to act as the "Saviour of the Wizarding World", although my being a Speaker threw him for a loop. When I found this out, rather than take the action most would expect of a Gryffindor, accusing the man and trusting that the wheels of justice would turn swiftly and bring the guilty to justice, I decided to play along. Knowing what he was up to gave me the ability to manipulate the situation to my own desire, giving me the chance to break free of his direct control by altering aspects of the game. _

_According to his version, I took Ron and Lockhart into the Chamber after figuring out where it was, where Lockhart was accidentally obliviated and a tunnel collapse separated us. That much is largely true, except Lockhart wasn't accidentally memory-charmed. It felt good to finally hex that prat. I caused the tunnel collapse as well, I didn't want to meet Sylvain face to face with the Weasley brat tagging along. So I entered the Chamber, where I found Ginny passed out but otherwise well and a very concerned Sylvain hovering over her. He told me that he had found her unconscious near the Chamber entrance in the Forbidden Forest, so he brought her into the chamber hoping that I would arrive soon. I know that in this narrative I have stated my general distaste for humans, and it may seem strange that I would want to rescue one at personal risk. However, she is not only a human, but a Hogwarts student, which makes all the difference to me. Anyway, what neither of us had realized was that she was basically one big booby trap, for when I touched her arm to see if she was still okay, her body was still in Dumbledore's control. She reflexively stabbed me in the arm with a poisoned dagger, and not just any poison but none other than basilisk venom. At this point, according to the official version Fawkes (who in reality was nowhere in sight) healed me with phoenix tears and carried us all to safety after I killed the big nasty snake. Heh. In reality I laid there, dying of the concentrated venom with a near hysterical basilisk trying to help me and a young girl who had apparently fulfilled her mission and was now unconscious, but free of the possession. Even though, for a brief amount of time, the venom was killing me, there was no way old Dumbles could have foreseen the results of his actions. When most creatures are under extreme stress, quite often abilities that they were unaware of kick in. Mothers can lift cars to save their infants, warriors can still fight even though their injuries should be fatal, and so forth. In my case, it awoke several of my non-human-magical creature heritages., in addition to unlocking memories and knowledge that no one would expect me to have. Yes, I am not wholly human, and very proud of that fact. Yes, both James and Lily Potter were fully human. Do the math yourself. I suppose that my Speaking scared old Dumbles to the point where he thought it would be better to get rid of me entirely, rather than try to continue the "Saviour" guise. No one would believe that a Speaker was the hope of the Wizarding World. Anyway, my newly awakened blood gifts quickly neutralized the venom, and I realized in that moment what my role would be in the upcoming years. My path was made clear to me, and never once did I hesitate. Once I calmed Sylvain down, we sat and decided what story I should present to good ole Dumbles. Using my new gifts, I transformed Sylvain into a phoenix that could be Fawkes' doppelganger, we gathered the humans together and the 'escape', as well as following events, went according to the official version. Not much happened after that, even going back to the Durstleys' was tempered by Sylvain's visits, and our occasional outings of which the Order was completely ignorant. Restraining him from eating the horse, whale, and walrus was tricky at times, especially since I was tempted myself. But things went as they always did, and I think that is it for this entry. If I'm up to it, I might tackle the entirety of third year in the next entry, but it wasn't nearly as eventful as year four, which I'll most likely have to split up into two entries. _

Everything I thought I knew was thrown into sharp relief as the lies they are with the irrefutable but curious truths written here. What magic can turn a basilisk into a phoenix, with all the phoenix gifts, and what creature heritage did he have? I am transcribing his journal as I read it myself for the first time, only adding a few impressions and reactions of my own, so I have no idea what gifts and powers he had. I can't help but wonder, even with the journal and few notes left behind, what knowledge and skills died with him, never to be recalled. More tragedy added to this already tragic tale, in which we are all characters. Apparently he thought higher of myself than I thought, surprising to say the least considering how I treated him over the years. I do not doubt a single word that he has written, the tale he tells, combined with his final moments, is enough to show the official accounts of events and the people involved as the fallacies they are. I will take this task up tomorrow, it is past late and I know that my sleep will be haunted by a boy young in physical age only, enduring trials that would have killed or broken most everyone. I've exhausted my supply of dreamless sleep, and dare not brew any more, so the shadows that haunt my sleep will have free reign to torment my dreamscapes. I wish I could say that I didn't deserve it on some level, but that comfort is denied to me. I deserve far worse.

_-S.S._


	4. Chapter 3

_Journal entry the third_

_Bah. Sometimes I wonder why I'm writing all this down. With my luck, this journal will probably be classified as a Dark, and therefore evil, book, and banned or burned upon my death. It's amazing how well people can live in denial, especially when they're nowhere near Egypt! Aaand I'm in worse shape than I thought, since I actually laughed at that horrible, horrible pun. I said that I would tackle my third year in Hogwarts in this entry, but I just don't feel like rehashing those memories right now, there's a rite I need to finish tonight and I need all my strength. So rather than proceed forward, I thought that I would provide a bit of background for the Boy-Who-Lived, clarify a few references I've made in my previous entries. Since no one will likely get past the second entry, this seems fairly secure. _

_Well, the popular view amongst the sheep, aka the Wizarding public, at the moment is that I was treated like royalty as a child, my every need seen to and my physical and emotional well being assured. That certainly does sound like a great childhood, I wonder how I could have gotten one for myself. The cold, harsh reality is that 4 Privet Drive holds no pleasant memories for me whatsoever, and is the key factor regarding my current state of mind and body. _

_I'm dying, plain and simple, and have been since I was 5 years old. Only my internal reserves of magic have kept death at bay, and they're running out. Most everyone, wizard and muggle, would be long in the ground by now. Why I'm dying is both a long and short story. My "relatives" were not very happy to take in the freak left on their doorstep that cold night. If a couple neighbours had not looked out their windows, I'm sure that I would have either been left out in the cold or thrown into the nearest ditch. With my presence came the perpetual scapegoat. Dudders wet the bed, well, it must be the freak's fault, beat him until he passes out in a pool of his own blood. That was my third birthday, I think. I never knew when my birthday was until I came to Hogwarts, but it was in the middle of summer. Freak didn't cook breakfast because he couldn't reach the stove, lock him away and starve him until he starts to lose skin tone, after the required beating of course. _

_Ah, my fifth summer of existence, now the real fun starts. Against all odds, I actually had a growth spurt where I was a relatively normal sized child for my age. Despite my beatings, I was also seemingly fair to look at, the very picture of hurt innocence. What little food I actually ate apparently cost more than I was worth, so naturally the walrus decided to find a way to recoup his losses. Enter the Freak, boy whore. Every day, usually multiple times, the men would come into the basement, where I was, more times than not, tied or chained up and ready. After all, that's all a freak deserves. Freaks don't deserve love, food, self-respect, and not to be turned into whores. Ah, but that wasn't the worst part. Not all of the men were as, shall we say, clean as they represented themselves to be. That was the only thing that Vernon insisted on, but a few slipped through the cracks. My only hope is that those pedophiles are now paying or have already paid the price for their actions. It would be easy to classify myself as a victim, but what's the point. I have no need for pity, there's no cure for my illness, and these events would be twisted somehow against me. Been there, done that, wrote the screenplay. The past is just that, the past, and right now there are more important things in my imminent future that, if I'm right, are important for everyone's future._

_Dear reader, you are most likely thinking that I should have told someone, run for help before things got out of hand. I did try. The punishments were worse on account of my pathetic, ultimately futile attempts. I didn't know that I was sick until just after I started Hogwarts, because before that my magic didn't really have that much to do but keep me alive and in decent shape. Once I started using magic, I noticed that I felt weaker physically, and that I didn't heal bruises and cuts as well as before. My theory, gleaned from many sleepless nights of research, is that since I was too young to have access to my full magic reserves, I was using the resources that kept the disease at bay to perform charms and such. As I grew older, the illness developed and mutated to the point where it needed more of my internal magic reserves to keep it from spreading. I suppose I could have flunked out of Hogwarts, claiming that an accident made me a squib or such, but I couldn't leave the school with the shape that it's in. There are things that are greater than us, and to restore Hogwarts to her former glory would, one way or the other, cost me my life. _

_So, I'll go out in style, and at the same time right many of the wrongs that you, the reader, are surely aware of by now. I imagine, as I write this, that one of the wronged parties has been restored to his proper place, his much coveted and previously cursed position, and is giving the students the education and opportunities that they all deserve, regardless of petty House differences. I dream that he will, through my current efforts, be able to shop in Diagon Alley without fear, and live the life that was robbed from him long before I was born. Dreams, it may seem amazing that I still have them. But I wouldn't be making my current preparations if I didn't still dream. A Hogwarts without House strife, where differences are celebrated, not feared. Teachers that care about the welfare of each student without preference. Such a time did exist, long ago. And it will exist again. _

Odd that, as I finish reading this entry, the man that Harry had such dreams for knocks on my door. He opens the door slightly, to reveal his newly restored appearance. Crimson eyes are long gone for green-blue ones, and his long black hair, lightly streaked with gray, shines in the candlelight. His appearance, which could once strike fear in the strongest wizard or muggle, has been restored to what he would have looked like in middle age if his life hadn't been horribly manipulated and twisted. Even now, having slowly acclimated to having him around in the castle, part of me still cringes instinctively. He asks me something, but I'm still in such a state of shock from this entry that I didn't hear him. I'm sure he noticed my choice of reading material, for a sad smile crosses his face and he leaves, closing the door quietly as I just sit there, still trying to absorb what I just read.

No wonder he was willing to sacrifice himself. To be dying for longer than you've lived, I can't imagine how he managed to not only survive, but play such a dangerous game with as much success as he did. I couldn't have done it. I would have snapped and jumped off the astronomy tower. I don't think that anyone today could have achieved what he did with such horrible circumstances. Enough reading for tonight. Time to open up a brand new bottle of firewhiskey and try to get at least close to a night's sleep.

-_S.S._


	5. Chapter 4

_Journal entry the fourth_

_I thought that I'd lose interest in maintaining this journal, what with the chaos of my current circumstances, but I'm still taking the time to maintain it. I guess it appeals to my twisted sense of humour. Let the poor reader envision me cackling right now, picturing their faces as they flip each page. I like to imagine shaking hands and nervous sweat. I can't even imagine what the reaction will be when they view my pensieve, if they are brave enough to venture into its murky depths. Hm. Oh, what a _wicked_ idea. I think I'll send the journals and notes by time-delay post, while leaving my pensieve right here in the chamber, where they will most likely start investigating. Extreme trauma first, background information second. Ha._

_Well, enough fantasizing. Time to delve into my third illustrious year at Hogwarts. Let's start with the first time I met Sirius, shall we? The first time that I encountered my dear godfather, he was very fuzzy. When I saw the Grim-like dog for the first time, I knew right away that it wasn't a real dog. First, the smell was off, there was a whiff of big dog but also human reek. Second, most dogs don't have magical fields around them. I did tell you that I greatly changed in my second year, after all. My sense of smell is far superiour to most, hell I could probably out-sniff our resident werewolf. I could always see magical fields and auras, however. Got me into a lot of trouble, but I learned to keep my mouth shut about that. I didn't know who the dog was until I learned about Sirius Black and his supposed role in the downfall of the Potters. It wasn't hard to figure out that puzzle once the right piece was handed to me. Why else would a large, magical dog follow me around just to sit and guard me. I knew that Sirius was innocent right from the start, mostly because if he really wanted to hurt or kill me it's a hell of a lot easier to do it in the body of a huge dog. I wouldn't have believed it anyway, dog or no dog, and not because the thought of having a family makes me all warm and fuzzy inside. Only good whiskey can do that, thank you very much. No, I would have known the story to be false because of the people who told it to me. _

_I digress once more, I must clarify something before I continue. I mentioned earlier about the staff not really caring about the students. Yes, their actions were at the time negligent. It wasn't their fault. Most of the staff of Hogwarts are perfectly innocent of neglect, but at the time they were being controlled by good ole Dumbles. He was more than a little peeved that I survived the Chamber, so he tweaked the charms and enchantments he had already woven into the teachers. When I first arrived, they were supposed to treat me like the Golden Boy-Who-Lived, no matter what. Dumbles realized this tactic wouldn't work when I spun my tale about 'Fawkes' coming to save us. Since he knew that Fawkes had nothing to do with it, he realized that I had stumbled upon at least some level of his deception. So, since I wasn't going to be his puppet, he made everyone pretty much turn away from me. He figured that if I was abandoned so dramatically, then I would run back to him to make things better. I don't think he ever really knew how bad things were at the Durstley's. Abandonment as a punishment is laughable to one such as I. _

_I do feel for the Professors, at least a bit. The guilt that will crush them, some more than others, once they are freed of control, might be more than some can bear. If I were a gambling creature, I would bet that the ones hardest hit by the guilt and betrayal of their former leader would be Poppy, Hagrid, Severus, and Minerva. Each had some form of significant contact with me, and they are all passionate beings. Well, that narrowed the field for the future recipient of my journals. I'll watch those four closer._

_Back to my third year. Ah, the train ride to Hogwarts. Picturesque scenery, fresh air, chocolate frogs, and of course the snoozing werewolf. Like with Sirius, I knew he was a werewolf, but that fact didn't bother me in the least. That would be hypocritical of me, carrying magical creature heritage myself. Since I had disposed with the previous DADA teachers, and Care of Magical Creatures was being handled by Hagrid, I figured that he was most likely our new professor. Of course I played dumb for Ron and Hermione, didn't want the coot's snitches to catch on that I was more than they thought. Keep friends close, enemies closer, after all. Then things started to get interesting with the Dementors. I knew what they were, once more, being the closet insomniac that I am, and what they did to humans. I think the hardest part was faking being scared for my life, since I had to use memories of my first few clients to work up that type of fear. I know that the retreat of the Dementors was credited to Lupin, but I played a role myself. Whatever else they are, Dementors are not stupid when it comes to self-preservation. They knew that I was the one that everyone on the train should fear, and that if I was so inclined I could have wiped them out, even as young as I was, with just one of my blood gifts. Convenient that Lupin was there to receive the credit. _

_Really, the Patronus spell as a repellent against Dementors? A spell that is based on happy feelings to fight a creature that loves to devour happy feelings? I guess unbiased, accurate information is a rare commodity in this age. Why not throw meat at a starving lion trying to bash it unconscious? Same effect. From the one Dementor I've talked with (they speak in a mostly forgotten cant, which came with the memories, gifts, etc.), the only reason they let people believe that the Patronus works is to keep the public from finding out what will really hurt them. Before you say, "There's no way he could have talked with a Dementor!", they do fear me after all. I sought one out to learn more about it, and it traded me this information, among other things, for survival. What did I have to lose, after all, all my precious happy memories? Hah. They'd rather starve than try to feed off me. _

_For the sake of trying to limit my rambling, I'll skip past Sirius's antics, as well as Trelawney's classes. I would be amazed that Albus could brainwash even a crackpot seer, but this is Trelawney we're talking about. I think enough shiny objects could do the trick. In addition, I really have no interest in commenting on the other members of the 'Golden Trio'. In the scope of things, they just don't matter. It does amaze me that the Weasleys had a rat in their possession that didn't age, and no one thought that this was just a bit off. Rats aren't known to have long lifespans. I knew Scabbers was an animagi the same way I figured out Sirius. I never liked Scabbers very much, in either rat or human form, but on some level I respect his self-preservation instinct. It will likely bite him in the tail very soon. _

_Regarding my classmates, I must tell you that I felt, and still feel, neutral towards most of them. Draco is one of the few exceptions to this rule. Even though he endangered that gorgeous, noble hippogriff with his childish antics, I could see past that. There is a being of interest buried in Draco, and it would come out more with every year. Unlike the masses, he had and still has potential to be...well, interesting. _

_Humans get so tedious sometimes, with their angst over whom likes whom, etc. Young ones seem especially prone to this condition. I forgive many of these youthful follies, with the condition that the children learn from them and grow as individuals. Not unreasonable, I think. Sylvain can't understand how indulgent I am with my classmates, taking their abuse. I've given up explaining, because I know that he'll respect my wishes even if he can't understand them. My caring for their well-being does not mean that I care for them as people, and indeed the ones surrounding me have stabbed me in the back so many times I could easily compete with Caesar in that aspect. Et tu, Ronald? _

_Soon the chips will fall where they may, and I hope the follies of youth quickly turn into valuable life experience for that merry band of traitors, for their health. I know I'm being awfully vague with what my current and final project is, and I don't think I'll reveal it quite yet. Since I won't include any details in my pensieve, all that you, the wary reader, know about my swan song are the effects, not what I actually did. Hell, no one has probably realized the long-term effects yet, so it will be a happy little surprise for everyone when I get around to it. Heh, you all will be in for a shock when my last surprise manifests. I know it hasn't yet. Well, off to the Forest. Toodles._

I need more Firewhiskey. The empty bottle sits on my mantle, mocking me. Every time I think that I've reached the limit of my shock factor, the threshold is pushed. After picturing him having long, intimate chats with a basilisk, I suppose the image of Harry chatting up a Dementor is not as shocking as it should. The only thing I am certain of anymore is that nothing is impossible when dealing with Harry. Harry, such a common name for an uncommon man. Who was he really! Merlin, it's driving me up the bloody wall, with each clue he drops I feel that I should know the answer, but it's just out of reach. Layers upon layers, and still nowhere near the crux of the matter. The ultimate Slytherin indeed, for all we know he could very well BE Slytherin himself. Wait. No. It couldn't be. That would be... no. No. I'll read further, it's just a hypothesis after all, one I intend to disprove once I compose myself. Yes, I'm sure it's just the sleepless nights that gave me that preposterous idea. A good night's sleep, and I can see the matter through fresh eyes. One night's sleep, that's all I need.

_-S.S._


	6. Chapter 5

_Journal entry the fifth_

_That was invigorating. My scrounging in the Forest was more successful than I thought it would be, and after knocking back a couple pain potions I think that I can make tonight a double-header entry. Not like I can get any sleep anyway. Well, time to give this another shot, on to my fourth year at Hogwarts, which is when things _really_ started getting interesting. _

_Let us begin with the ill-fated Quidditch Cup. I hated that I had to go along with the Weasley Clan to keep up appearances, but it was a necessary evil. Couldn't tip my hand that early in the game, after all. Had to play nice with the traitors, although I do appreciate the twins. Gred and Forge actually made me laugh a few times. I'll leave them something nice, and call off the debt for the store. I was fairly bored with the game, the only reason I got into Quidditch was the opportunity to fly, after all. Things got interesting when the Death Eaters showed up, however. For me it was the good type of interesting. Finally I got to see, with my own eyes, the "evil" wizards supposedly responsible for all the woes in my life. Seriously, the pointed hoods went out with the plague, have none of these wizards even the slightest ounce of fashion sense? It was all I could do to keep from laughing in their faces. And the masks? Please, if so many grown wizards find the masks frightening then they apparently have never been to a decent Halloween bash. Or to a bad one for that matter. The Morsmordre spell intrigued me, because I had encountered the original version of that spell before, a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away... Why do I bother, no one will get the reference. Wizards don't get into pop culture as a rule. For the literal-minded reader, no, not in a far away galaxy, but a long time ago stands. _

_Skipping past those otherwise tedious events, let us resume with the introduction of 'Mad-Eye Moody' as our newest DADA teacher. I knew once more that the man wasn't the real Moody, partially from the reek of Polyjuice and partially from the fact that I recognized the smell as the person who cast the Morsmordre spell at the tournament. The thought never crossed my mind to call him out and reveal his fraud, though. Who am I to reveal someone's schemes, after all. His deception paled to mine, so I decided to watch him like a hawk does a mouse. He did play the role to the hilt, up to and past the Goblet fiasco. Before you wonder, no, I did not enter my name in the contest, faux-Moody did. I didn't really want to play that game, but not for the reasons I presented. With my knowledge, gifts, and powers, which since I'm feeling indulgent I'll reveal some of them in this entry, I could have squashed the other competitors like bugs. I was tempted to throw the contest, just to save myself the time and effort, but then I was once again betrayed. This time Dumbles actually managed to hurt me. _

_Still playing the abandonment/neglect angle to punish me, he stepped the game up to a new level when he dared lay a finger on my first true friend. Hedwig was an innocent, and didn't deserve to be hit with the Killing Curse while resting in the Owlery. I knew it was Dumbles, his magical signature was all over her body. I had protected her with many wards and charms, but nothing that could block a spell of that power. He advanced the game to a new level, and I was going to be thrice-damned if I wasn't going to exceed him. Now, I know you're thinking, Hedwig isn't dead, she's been by my side the whole way. I wonder what your reaction will be when I tell you, poor reader, that my faithful white shadow, from fourth year on, was actually Sylvain transfigured to owl form. He felt my pain, and offered to take her place, no strings attached. In other words, there was a deadly, ancient basilisk flying around the school with free reign, who had no real geas to behave himself. All the people who pissed me off were unwittingly at his mercy. _

_With this catalyst, I threw myself into the challenges, figuring to reveal only enough of my full power to make Dumbles reconsider taking such a direct approach with me ever again. I can only imagine what was running through his head when he saw Hedwig apparently unharmed. Hm, with his age he probably wet himself anyway. It amused me that these students, my 'competitors', seemed to have no idea as to the scope of the event that they were caught up in. More lay at stake than school pride, in past tournaments many people have died, been irreparably harmed, or have just disappeared without a trace. The Tri-Wizard is not a game, it is a way to weed out the strongest warrior. I suppose Dumbles was hoping that one of these other students would prove to be a strong champion to take my place, then he could try to dispose of me. Laughable. Fools will remain fools, despite age. _

_I did my best to tune out the annoying worry of Hermione and pure jealous hatred of Ronnie-kins, which helped me immeasurably. I knew the challenges would not be easy, but I remained confident that I could find the answer and succeed with little difficulty. I could hardly restrain my joy when I learned about the dragon challenge. Let me provide you with some background, I'll throw out this tidbit of information. _

_My reason for joy extends all the way back to my first life, which was the founding of my bloodline as we know it. My grandfather was a High Druid who happened to be half-Dark Elven. He liked kink, so one Solstice abroad he hooked up with my grandmother, a full blood Maenad. Result: my mother, who took after the Maenad side more than the human/elven. So, my kinky mother decides to experiment a bit and snags my father, who was the full-blood head of the Naga-im line of basilisks. I'm not sure I _want_ to know the details, but the end result was yours truly in his first incarnation, which explains the Speaking and magic-sensing, at least. Speaking, especially, is only a blood gift, and can't be passed along any way but biological. Now, the Naga-im are the basilisk equivalent of the royal bloodline, and would occasionally mate out-of-species for diplomatic reasons, or out of sheer lust. The dragon that was assigned to me, as a result, was my distant cousin. So is Sylvain, if I want to get technical. Dragons that carry Naga-im blood retain the ability to Speak, so before the match I snuck up to him and worked out a deal: He chases me around, give the crowd a thrill, and takes a dive before either of us gets hurt. He was eager to agree once I broke the border-restraining spell that was placed on him to keep him from escaping. So, we played silly buggers for a while and then followed the plan. A bit anticlimactic, I suppose. _

_Well, enough about this for now, I couldn't do justice to this highly eventful year with one entry, and I don't feel like starting another one currently. Enough purging of the soul, I need to force my body to rest before I put the masks back up. I think, for fun, I'll mess with Sevvie's mind a bit. We should be making Dreamless Sleep in potions tomorrow, er, later today I mean, and if this one text is correct I can make something that will blow his mind, as well as start the ball rolling. The game is afoot._

I remember that class. It would be hard to forget, since I see the eventual end results occasionally. The class seemed to be nothing out of the ordinary, most of the dunderheads didn't even come close to successfully making Dreamless Sleep. Doing the usual rounds of taking House points, and of course keeping a close eye on Longbottom to make sure that I can neutralize whatever explodes in his cauldron, I ignored Harry as usual, sure that no matter what the end result would be dismal at best. I should have noticed something was different when, even after pairing him with Draco, he didn't do his usual whining. When it was time to hand the potions in, I noticed that Draco and Harry's potion looked off. Not so different as to be a failure, but not what Dreamless Sleep should look like. I called them both to stay behind. I'm sure that Draco thought that the failure was due to Harry's known incompetence with potions. I started to drill them for every step they took, when Harry got a strange, chilling grin on his face. For a moment, I'm fairly sure I saw the real Harry Potter, or at least what was left. I, a known Death Eater, someone who has seen many terrible things in his life, felt a twinge of fear when I saw what lay beneath the masks. He smirked in a very familiar way, tossed an old manuscript and what looked like freshly-taken notes on my desk, and walked out without saying a word. I dismissed Draco and decided to examine what he had left.

What I found, well, surprised me at the very least. It seems that, somewhere, Harry had found a potion to counter and heal long-term Cruciatus damage, which was thought irreparable. Not only had he found it, but expertly translated it from the original ancient Greek version and brewed one successful dose in class with most of the same ingredients of Dreamless Sleep. When I picked up the documents, a note slipped out, addressed to myself. He gave me everything I needed to claim the potion innovation as my own, and asked me to do so, with the requirement that I use the potion to cure the Longbottoms. If I wasn't interested, he'd find out somehow and give the materials to someone else. The intellectual challenge proved too tempting, and I played along with him, claiming the potion after familiarizing myself with the texts and brewing a second dose identical to Harry's. Now the Longbottoms are walking around as if they never left. I suppose it was his way of giving Neville a chance at the life he was denied. I will always wonder as to his true motive, for even the information he leaves behind raises more questions than answers.

I detest doing this, but I think I'll have to pay Madam Pince a visit to research further. Wizards with that lineage can't be very common, and if I get an idea as to what other talents he was hiding maybe I can satisfy this annoying itch as to his past identity. Then maybe I can move on to the other dilemmas that his narrative raises. At this rate, I'll be old and gray before I fully understand.


	7. Chapter 6

_Journal entry the sixth_

_I am going to make a prediction. I am guessing that the clues I dropped regarding my bloodline sent whomever the reader is off on a research hunt, trying to figure out who I was long ago. Let me clue you in on something, my dear reader . I would bet my vaults that you didn't find anything in your research except for a couple one-line descriptions. Hogwarts' library has been pruned over the years to remove anything about creatures and events that bore a taint of dark magic, often removing the only alternate accounts of many wizarding events. I will therefore predict, if I decide to send this to Severus, that you stormed out in disgust, robes billowing, and checked out several other more esoteric sources. If you did, you likely found out a bit more, but not nearly enough to satiate you. How would I know this? I did the exact same thing once, when I got bored. And yes, I did drop the clues to work readers into a frenzy. Thinking about it makes me laugh. If I send this to anyone else but Sev, likely you will now run to him for help in your search after reading this entry. Humans are predictable enough creatures. _

_Before I get to the second challenge, there is something I feel I need to get out in the open. During the challenges, I never slacked off of my vigil over the faux-Moody. When I smelled a familiar rat on him one day, my interest was definitely piqued. I asked Sylvain to keep an eye on him in raven form, knowing that Moody would recognize a white owl, and I figured that a raven wouldn't be too conspicuous. What I discovered made me feel like a kid on Christmas, well, a normal kid at any rate. They were trying to find a way to bring back good ole Voldie, who was trapped in a horribly twisted body. At the time, there wasn't a clear cut plan other than to get ahold of me, probably to use me as a hostage to get some dreary artifact or such. Well, it was easy enough to provide them with the answer they were seeking. Almost too easy, in fact._

_Yes, I wanted Tom to be restored to a proper body, with his rightful powers. I had been working on that problem since second year, when I learned about how horribly twisted his life had been and how he had ultimately been manipulated the same way the Hogwarts professors have. My reason for this desire was, and is, very simple. I wanted to free Tom, help him in what way I can now so that later I can free him from his internal prison. The monster known as Lord Voldemort is not really Tom Riddle. Tom was, and hopefully still is, a basically decent man with a selfless streak and voracious appetite for knowledge. Much like myself, in either life, as a matter of fact. Voldemort was created by the real villain of this drama, and is little more than a puppet, acting by another's rules and desires with no free will or concept of self whatsoever. He was supposed to die completely that fateful Halloween, but thanks to an absence of information about our bloodline, the real monster didn't expect one of our magical blood gifts to kick in. The gift I refer to is one that I'm not sure if I possess myself, since the only way to figure it out is death, and it is the ability to spirit-walk. _

_What is spirit-walking, you may wonder? Don't bother researching. You won't find it. In the case of a violent, surprising, or heavily magical death, one with that gift will reflexively split body and soul at the exact moment of death. The body will fall, but the sentient soul would be able to exist, in one way or another, until they find a way to continue with whatever they were doing in life. This may or may not require the taking of another physical body, of which there are several methods. It doesn't sound fun, but I can see where it would come in handy. How do I know this, one might wonder. Well, among my old possessions I found something that I created long ago, a self-updating family tree of sorts. Unlike most trees, mine doesn't just list names and birth/death dates, but rather how they died, in addition to what blood gifts if any they manifested in life. By now it is absolutely huge and fills one entire wall of the chamber, working on a second. Most of the lines are nonhuman, but there are a couple wizards who would probably be surprised that their names appear on my wall. _

_Before the protest that there was no such thing in the Chamber, since I'm sure that Tom will lead a party down there at some point, ask him to smear a bit of his blood on the wall that bears the onyx ouroborous carving. Oh, and everyone should step back about six feet when he does that. Well, that tips my hand as to my identity, but I was getting tired of dancing around it anyway. In this body I may be known, erroneously, as Harry Potter, and I may have his memories, but in every other way that matters I am truly the ultimate, and original, Slytherin. _

_After finding out what the faux-Moody and the rat were up to, it was easy enough to give them, through indirect means of course, the ritual which ultimately gave Tom his body back. That done, all I had to do was sit back and play along with the masses. I personally thought it was in rather bad taste to bring out the mermaid challenge. That particular event is a favourite of the Tournament, and it is probably the most devastating. I did in fact use gillyweed to survive that task, although I had to wait for someone else to be coerced to suggest it. Sometimes all the tangles of the games I'm involved in give me a headache. _

_Once that was accomplished, it was easy enough to get through the challenge as predicted. There was something that I didn't expect, however, and that was Fleur dropping out entirely. The reason that this challenge is the most devastating of all is that, if the challengers fail to retrieve their loved ones in any way, the loved ones are indeed brought out of their magical coma. The catch is that this happens at the bottom of the lake, with the ties still attached. In short, it is a rather horrible way to die, and the challenger has to live with the fact that their failure killed someone that they loved. They of course failed to tell the current challengers this, otherwise I'm sure Fleur would have tried harder, but I knew that the rules of the tournament hadn't changed at all since they were first written. Her little sister was going to die at the bottom of a lake with no chance of survival. I have been called a lot of things, in both lives, but never, NEVER would I let an innocent die if I could do anything about it. Hell, that's my whole motivation at the moment, and likely the only reason I yet live. I did not hesitate to bring up the girl, although I had to wrestle with myself regarding Weasley. I was severely tempted to leave him, and he was far from innocent at the time, but that would have raised more questions that I didn't want to deal with. So up I went, two in tow, and the crowd shifts from self-absorbed brat to selfless saviour in less than a heartbeat. Rather pathetic, really. I almost pity those with such weak minds that they believe anything they're told. Almost. _

_Ah, the sun is rising, even down here I can sense the changes it brings to the world. I think I'll show up at breakfast today, just for a good scare. It's the small things, sometimes, that keep us going from day to day._

Right now I am eternally grateful that I restocked my firewhiskey. It took a few moments to compose myself long enough to grip the quill without shredding the parchment like a first year. I really didn't expect him to confirm my suspicions. To think that we had one of the Founders walking around, in full possession of his mind and memories, and no one caught on. I can only imagine what Tom will think of this entry, I must show him. Since Harry fully restored him in every way as part of his last act, he's been at something of a loss. This might help him, after first pushing him into a nervous breakdown. I can't imagine the share of grief and guilt that he carries around with him still. My own burdens me to the point where sometimes it becomes difficult to breathe, and his load is far heavier than mine, whether he was in fact ultimately responsible or not. I confess that helping him overcome some of his guilt is not my sole motivation in the matter. I can't help but be intrigued with the possibilities, and possibly the answers, that the tree can provide.

It hadn't occurred to me that the challenges of that Tournament were deadly, after all they were only students. We all assumed, I suppose, that there were safeguards to prevent against death, at least. Injuries are unavoidable, and can help teach lessons, but this insight chills me to the core. It's one thing to know that you were working for a monster, it's entirely another to realize that he was willing to let a bunch of innocent students die just to play some sick, twisted control game. It seems, without saying, that everything that was ever understood about Salazar Slytherin is not to be trusted. The founder as we grew up knowing him would have left the child at the bottom of the lake to save himself. How wrong the wizarding world has been. There is something that still bothers me, even after this revelation. Throughout the journal so far, he keeps talking about setting things right, as they should be, yet as it stands now the Slytherin name is still tarnished, although not as bad as it was with Tom's rightful return. I don't think I can take much more tonight, so perhaps it is time to seek out our esteemed DADA professor and follow the eerily accurate predictions and advice of his unexpectedly noble ancestor.


	8. Chapter 7

_Journal entry the seventh_

_Have I been accurate with my predictions regarding your actions, my dear reader? I would like to think so, otherwise I severely overestimated my observation skills. Let me continue the trend, at the very least it will provide me some amusement. I will hazard a guess that right after you read my last entry, an impromptu excursion was made to the Chamber by most of the faculty members, and maybe a few other involved parties. Tom will have then smeared a bit of blood on the wall, and after the light show the tree was revealed in all of its intricate, almost impossible to read glory. Likely, the first name most looked for was my current one. I'm sure several jaws dropped when they saw the list of blood gifts under my name. Imagining the look on their faces, however, when they see exactly how I fit into the bloodline, puts a huge grin on my face. Hell, there are probably people still down there trying to decipher the human bloodlines, and maybe even the magical creature bloodlines. It will certainly provide a diversion for many a rainy day, I think. I wonder if they will figure out what the different name colours are for. Should I be a good boy and let everyone in on the secret? Hmmm, nope. Not yet at least. Let them twist in the wind a bit first. Of the people who would be able to figure it out, I think only Tom and Sev will be able to._

_In the interest of trying to maintain a sense of continuity, let me continue with my breakdown of my fourth year and move on to the third task. In many magical creature circles, the Tri-Wizard maze is still spoken of with dread and fear, much like the You-Know-Who nonsense. Seriously, what the hell? Ack, before I delve into _that_ rant, let's move on shall we? _

_In the early days of the tournament, the officials would often round up various, usually unwilling dangerous creatures and place them, stunned at first, at various places in the maze. Their job was to, once again, weed out the weak. It sounds like the creatures would love it, they just sit in one place, human comes along, crunch, slurp, lunch is served. Not quite, unfortunately. Near the creatures the officials would place objects or artifacts that contain the creature's greatest weakness, and would give the contestants clues as to their exact location. When the contestant comes along, if they find the item or items then the tables would be completely turned. Now the creature is more or less captive thanks to several strategic wards, faced with a human that has the ability to permanently cripple, or even kill them without breaking a sweat. For example, if a vampire was placed in the maze then the area would be littered with holy water, wooden stakes, and occasionally captured sunlight. To be caught and sent to the maze was quite often a death sentence. They did change that rule, simply because creatures became harder to get, replacing them with spells. If anything, the modified maze is deadlier than the original, because there are no clues or helpful items anymore. _

_After I passed the ritual along to Voldie, I kept wondering when his bumbling henchmen would be able to pull it off. A huge sigh of relief washed over me when the faux-Moody pointed me in the proper direction at the beginning of the challenge. This, to me, indicated that he wanted me to separate from the group and get to the cup first. The only possible reason I could figure would be an abduction, which they would need to perform the ritual. Finally, things were going to get real interesting. This would be my first overt attack, and I would judge it successful. _

_The only factor I didn't account for was Cedric lunging for the cup at the same time as I. No, I did not ask him to grab the cup with me as I told the wizarding public, that was an outright lie on my part. He had the longer reach, despite the fact that I lunged for it first, so he was dragged along via portkey to the graveyard. I must admit, I found the choice of setting both highly cliché and very appropriate. When we arrived, I was immediately tied up and he was left on the ground, disoriented. His death went much as the official version states, really not much to add there. I don't feel bad or responsible for his death, he made his choice when he tried to shove me out of the way to get to the cup first. Glory and fame blinded him, I suppose. _

_Well, the ritual went almost exactly as I thought it would. Part of me had hoped that restoring his body would restore his mind as well, but unfortunately Voldie was still in the driver's seat with Tom tied up in the trunk. So I play-acted with him, had a laughable duel, pretended to be the bloody BWL for the death eaters that showed up, and port-keyed out of there with Cedric's body. If only those fashion victims had not shown up, I could have possibly had a more meaningful encounter with my relation without death threats on either end. I should have transfigured all their robes into costumes from Star Wars. Lucius would look especially stunning as C3-PO, I think. Once again, another wasted reference. What the hell, it's _my_ journal after all, I'll reference what I please._

_I think that my return from the graveyard was perhaps my finest bit of acting to date. The fatigue wasn't faked at all hardly, by that point my illness had advanced to the point where my energy levels were not as they should be. The rest of it was pure, unadulterated crap. That pretty much sums it up._

_Well, my eventful fourth year is fairly well covered, I think. Not much I left out at first glance. Time to move on to other things. I read that journals are often used for purposes other than what I have been doing. I figure, what the hell, let's give it a shot. _

_The few times I manage to get sleep, my dreams have been quite interesting. I don't actually have the visions that I pass on to Dumbles, of course. My dreams are something a bit more standard to one in a teenage body, no matter what shape. You would think that someone with my past would be horribly scarred by the notion of sex. I am, and have always been, smart enough to disassociate the actions of my customers with what sex should be. So I am no stranger to lustful dreams. Recently my dreams have focused on one person. The dreams always start with hearing his voice, which in real life sends shivers down my spine. He is often stroking my hair from behind and saying the kinkiest things while lightly caressing my bare chest with calloused fingertips. This sends such delicious sensations through my body that I press closer against him, moaning softly. Here, the dream branches off, I think depending on my state of exhaustion or mental state when I fall asleep. _

_When I collapse from exhaustion, which is the most common, he pulls me closer against him and wraps one arm tightly around my waist, using his free hand to rub my inner thighs, not straying to where I want him to touch the most, of course. This continues until he starts to bite my shoulder and neck, not hard enough to draw blood but enough to feel. I swear that sometimes I have woken up with teeth marks, they feel so real. By this point I'm consumed with enough pure lust that I'm a whimpering, moaning puddle. I would like to imagine that my dream man smirks at my reaction in that way I adore, and he proceeds to push me to the bed, covering my small frame with his larger one, and suddenly all clothes vanish and we are skin-to-skin. The heat he radiates sends waves of pleasure and excitement through me, as does his heavy weight almost, but not quite, crushing me. I raise my hips, and we touch each other's arousals for the first time. No matter how many times I have this dream, it's always the first time. Even as he's grinding against me, he still speaks to me in that lovely voice all the wonderfully kinky things he will do to me before our session is over. _

_Foreplay, in many ways, is a greater source of pleasure for me than the actual act, since I have never really experienced it. The fact that my dream lover spends what seems like ages stroking, kissing, caressing, and preparing me is a huge-turn on, and my dream self often climaxes just from this. My dream man spends plenty of time exploring every inch of my body with a quiet self-assuredness that I envy. After caressing me into one powerful orgasm, he pulls me up from the bed and lays down himself, allowing me to do whatever I wish in a gesture of trust that brings a tear to my eye. I try to repeat the skillful ministrations he gave to me, but in the end I usually give up soon and proceed to give him the best blow job ever. Remember, there's serpent in my ancestry, and serpents not only have no gag reflex but have very, VERY powerful throat muscles. I love to drive him near climax, and I try to have him erupt down my throat, but almost at the point of no return he pulls me off and throws me to the bed in pure lustful abandon. He leans down and caresses my ear with his voice, making sure that I'm still ready for him, and then he is deep inside me. I have felt the physical act many times before, but it always feels like he's touching more of me than anyone ever had, that there's still something left within me untouched by the crude masses. Lust overcomes both of us at that point, and we rut like animals until we hit a simultaneous, very powerful, orgasm. At this point I wake up panting, the front of whatever clothes I'm wearing a mess, and I swear that, for a few fleeting moments, I can feel his heat explode within me, searing me in ways I've never felt before._

_I used to get profoundly depressed after such dreams, for I could not in good conscience reenact this scene in real life. I've lusted after him almost from the first moment I met him, but I've kept it very well hidden. If I really wanted to, I would have little problem following through on my desires. The chance that he would get sick from me, however, is far too great for me to indulge in selfish desire. Sex with me, at this point, would be a virtual death sentence. I would not even give my worst enemy the affliction that I suffer from, let alone someone I care for. Yes, it is more than lust that I feel. Better to keep a distance then. If circumstances were different, I could have imagined a life with him. Sure, we'd have our share of rows, but things would never be dull. Enough of this fantasizing, time to get back to work. It did feel good to get this out. Maybe all those self-help books I usually sneer at have a few kernels of truth to them after all._

Damn it all. This is just too, too much to handle right now. I should have waited longer to continue reading the journal after spending most of the night trying to decipher that blasted tree. I knew that we were in for some shocking revelations, but as usual we were unprepared for the magnitude of them. I feel flattered, that he mentioned me as one of the only people with the potential to properly figure it out. If nothing else, I shall have to live up to those expectations.

It seems that most of the surviving members of the Slytherin line are non-human. There are several colours for the names, but it seems fairly obvious that shining silver means alive and black refers to dead family members. The names included in the human descendants are truly shocking. I expected a who's who of traditionally dark families, such as the Blacks, to feature heavily, but it seems that only once did the Black bloodline cross Slytherin's through marriage. I never thought, in my wildest flight of fantasy, that Fudge would be on the tree, let alone Minerva. Fudge is related through marriage only, thankfully, but Minerva comes from the line of Salazar's youngest, which as it turns out married heavily into light-loving families. Her blood relation is nowhere near as direct as Tom's, but there's a chance that her being an Animagus might be a blood gift. Maybe other things as well. If interpreted properly, this tree could possibly rewrite much of wizarding history. Near the top of the tree, where Salazar's name itself lies, many of the names are written in an unfamiliar language. Properly deciphered, I am sure that, judging by his past record, Salazar's tree will shock the wizarding world to it's foundations, and maybe past.

I really didn't think that a sexually abused child would have sex dreams, let alone describe them in such detail. At this point I have enough to try to understand without adding this mystery into the mix. Once things die down I might spend some time trying to figure out who Harry's dream lover was, simply so I could give him many of his effects that remain unclaimed. I have taken temporary custody over the belongings that he didn't include in his last will, and maybe once these are given to the one that Harry cared for the burden I carry with me would be a bit less. I probably run the risk of developing a drinking problem, but Merlin help me, I need a drink.


	9. Chapter 8

_Journal entry the eighth_

_I think I've done this journal an injustice by neglecting most of the events that happened before my second year. When I started writing in here, I thought that it would just be a purge of most of the data that I've accumulated regarding what my future actions will be. As I was writing, I started to get the feeling that there were missing pieces of the puzzle, that perhaps my own assumptions needed to be challenged. For example, from the family tree I knew that Tom was my sire and Lily my mother. I assumed that I was the result of a brief affair on Lily's part, perhaps after a fight with James. People do hurtful things in anger after all. Since the events I speak of happened so long ago that any living witness is suspect, especially considering most, if not all, of them have had their minds altered by the coot, I decided to go straight to the source, as it were. After my last entry, I headed to the last place most people would expect, indeed I'm sure most people weren't aware that I even knew where it was, Godric's Hollow. My goal was to ask Lily and James Potter directly about the events surrounding my conception, and several other events that seem suspect to me. _

_Summoning is one of my blood gifts, but it's utterly exhausting. In the case of summoning spirits that have died violent deaths, it's usually easier to go to the spot where they died, hence my late night visit. In life, they may have been under spells to control their minds, but the dead are immune from this. I knew that, if I could summon either or both of them, that I would have a pure, untainted source of information. _

_After a truly exhausting rite, where I had to remove every single one of my glamours, I managed to successfully summon both. Before you wonder, yes, I have worn constant glamours since my second year. After all, it was expected that I look like a carbon copy of James Potter, so seeing that in real life I closely resemble my real father would work to my disadvantage. Even when I go out in the world with my real appearance, I still wear glamours to cover the ravages of my illness. I wear a lot of glamours on a daily basis, so it was a real pain to have to remove all of them, since to leave them on would risk botching the summon, and I wouldn't have enough energy for another attempt. Tip to any summoners who read this: when attempting even the smallest rite, make sure that you wear your real, natural appearance, even blemish covers could screw things up, and the backlash is a bitch. _

_I was so relieved that I survived the dual summon that I almost forgot why I had summoned them in the first place. Seeing my parents for basically the first time did not provoke any extreme emotional response that one would expect. I wasn't overjoyed, angry, or wistful, all that I experienced was the relief of performing the rite correctly and intellectual curiosity. This shocked them, I think, because they looked at me wistfully, but almost as if I was a stranger to them. I proceeded to ask my questions, and what I found out shocked even me. Are you ready, dear reader? I recommend sitting down, I fell head over arse._

_Another one of my notions was that the coot's mind-meddling only really spread when it came close to my first year of Hogwarts, that before my pending arrival the only mind-bending was done to poor Tom in order to squeeze him into the Dark Lord mold. I was wrong, so very wrong. Tom wasn't his only early victim. I was shocked to hear that most of their classmates, including all the Marauders and Severus, were being manipulated. _

_From their arrival, the Marauders were more or less forced to become friends through proximity and subtle mind-screwing. I'm sure that they developed a true friendship over time, but Dumbles still had a hold on each of them. From the beginning, he planted the seed in their brains that Severus would make a prime target. I'm still not sure as to the true reason for this, but my educated guess would be that he wanted to alienate poor Sev so that he could step in and 'save' him, eventually, putting yet another powerful, clever wizard under his control. He was the merry puppetmaster even then. After graduation, he maintained his hold over all his pawns, using them in ways that make even I shudder. _

_Some things did happen on their own, such as James and Lily falling in love, Severus pursuing his mastery, and so forth. What didn't happen on its own was my conception. After getting James and Lily involved in the laughable Order, he made one of his boldest moves to date. He was not very happy with Tom's performance as a Dark Lord, and suspected that he might have built some resistance to his meddling. The coot didn't want to lose control over the current Heir of Slytherin, so he decided that the best way would be to start anew, so that he would be able to control the new Heir's entire life from start to finish. How did he pull this off, you might wonder. Well, he just happened to have under his control a first-generation happily married witch of child-bearing age, married to a person who bore a slight resemblance to Tom. After a couple well-placed memory charms, he sent Lily off, under a disguise, to go seduce Tom until she became pregnant. After conception, she would leave Tom instantly and she and James would resume their life as normal. Of course, Tom would forget soon after her departure, never giving it a second thought. James and Lily would bear and raise the child as their own, until it was time to set up one of the greatest staged events in history. _

_Yes, I refer to that fateful Halloween long ago. It would have been inconvenient to have two loving parents influencing his latest project, and Tom was starting to outlive his usefulness. It would really throw a wrench in the coot's plans if Voldemort actually won, so lucky me, I won the martyr lottery. Worked out nicely for the coot, Tom dies, Potters die, Marauders all missing or ineligible for custody, and little baby Harry left at his tender mercies to shape and mold as he saw fit. He had no intention of having me die after all, he set Tom up to use the Killing Curse on a bug and then kill himself. Would have worked out nicely, if things had gone to plan. Except, of course, his gross incompetence regarding background research screwed him over royally. If he had known what the Durstleys would do to me, I'm not sure if he would have sent me there. He wanted me to have low self-esteem and a general level of abuse, not what actually happened which crippled me emotionally and physically. Shoddy work, if you ask me. He couldn't have known about Tom's ability to spiritwalk, or that I would be struck with the curse along with the fly that landed on my forehead, I'll give him that. He might have been perplexed about my scar, but since no one's supposed to be able to stop the Killing Curse he most likely thought it to be inconsequential, and even helpful to his cause. He screwed over a lot of people just to be able to play hero again. _

_This is a lot to ponder over, and it does change the shape of the playing field significantly. So many wrongs to address... It'll take longer than I thought, if the adjustments I made to my calculations are correct. I hope, for all our sakes, that I can hold on long enough. I don't want to think about the consequences of my failure. I must protect the students, and all the lives Hogwarts touches. I made that vow long ago, and I will find a way. I have to. I'm just so bloody tired. _

Could it all have been a lie? The pranks, the taunting, generally making my life a living hell, all so that some crazy old man could feel like a hero again? Even though these entries have all been truthful, as far as we know, I can't just accept this account of events at face value. A properly skilled Legilmens should be able to check for long term memory modification. I sincerely hope that our revelations will prove this account wrong, otherwise so much of what I am has been based on lies and misconceptions. We all could have had chances at real lives. I can't even have a drink to numb the shock. I'm not relying on the firewhiskey too much, am I? A question for another night, perhaps.


	10. Chapter 9

_Journal entry the ninth_

_I think I've managed to build up a resistance to Pepper-Up potions. It's probably only my sheer stubborn will keeping me vertical, but in a cruel twist of fate I have to expend what physical energy I have left to build up my magical stores. These late nights are starting to catch up with me, but without the collected energy I wouldn't be able to perform a simple levitation charm. Let's see, in the previous entry I addressed my beginning, in all of its convoluted glory. In the interest of balance, let's skip ahead and tackle my present. I'm sure that there has been someone studying the tree non-stop since it was revealed, but even the legible parts must seem extremely confusing, especially when referencing the various blood gifts. I will clarify yet another one for you, my dear reader, one that I know for a fact was lost to history. I am, of course, referencing to the gift entitled "Bardic Voice", which appears less than ten times on the entire tree. In both lives, I possessed the Voice, and I am perhaps the only member of the family to realize its full potential. _

_Think about music, for a second, my dear reader. I am certain that there are some songs that have a profound emotional impact on you. Nowadays music is just a form of entertainment, but in the glory days of the Bards songs took on whole new meanings and dimensions. Imagine a song as a spell, of sorts. Instead of relying on flicking a silly stick around and spouting regurgitated latin, you take the spell and channel it through yourself. Spells set to songs are powerful, and less dependent on key words as long as the caster's intent is there. _

_I know, disbelief might be setting in, what can a song really do in practical terms. Well, a properly trained battle wizard can take down, what, maybe a dozen of their opponents with, say, slashing hexes for example. That seems like a good ratio, each wizard taking twelve of their opponents with them, and most war leaders would be happy with those numbers. In my day, using my bardic skills, I could take that slashing hex and broadcast it through a song. Instead of taking down a dozen of my opponents, I could take down hundreds in minutes with the same hex. _

_Bardic talents not only tap into the power of the caster, but it resonates through the target as well. The best feature about using bardic talent to cast spells is that you aren't limited by range, or even effects of the spell. Anything you can envision, with the right talent and song, can be cast by a true Bard. I have turned soldiers away from fighting to hold a huge orgy in the middle of the battlefield. Likewise, well-sung songs have helped turn potential enemies into potential allies. Bards, which came mostly from Druid stock, were often in demand at court for such purposes only, the ultimate diplomats. One lesser known ability of the Voice is the ability to siphon energy from your audience. The key to this is to sing a song designed to raise a strong emotion in your audience, be it adoration, lust, fear, envy, any emotion will do ultimately. Strong emotions make people radiate excess energy, which is why crowds tend to have the same mentality in a given situation. A true Bard can take this energy produced from the emotions and absorb it, adding it to their magical reserve. It's a handy skill in a pinch, if you exhaust yourself it's fairly easy to find a power source. _

_What relevance has this to my recent life, you might wonder? Well, after finishing what I need for my rite most nights I head out to a mostly muggle part of London, where I have a standing gig in this one nightclub. It's easy enough to go incognito, all I have to do is drop the glamours that resemble the BWL and walk in my touched-up true form. I'm apparently one of the most popular acts to come along in a while, every night I show up ends up being a sell-out. It's not only muggles that attend, I spot a fair number of young wizards, even some of my own classmates on a fairly regular basis. In other words, I'm a rock star. With touch-ups, I'm apparently not bad to look at, and even without the bardic talent my voice is decent. I sing mostly covers, and it's easy enough to whip the crowd into enough of a frenzy that I can refill my magical reserves quickly. It's utterly exhausting physically, but that's an easier affliction to counter. Not like I expect to live much longer anyway. _

_Hmm, maybe I should check some of the wizarding papers, I know I saw Luna there the other night. Even in a different setting, role, and form I can't stay out of the papers. I know the muggle papers have covered my shows, they keep pestering my voice mail for interviews. You'd think they would get the clue after telling each one how many ways they could bugger the rest of their family, past, present, and future, but noooo. _

_I don't think I'll attend classes so regularly anymore. It's not like they have anything to offer me, and there are other aspects of my life that need more of my time and resources. Besides, the late nights are wearing me out. I might make token appearances, to keep the coot staying the course he is. I can ill afford too many variables to change anymore, I've invested so much of myself already for the future of Hogwarts. If I pull this off, never again will someone the likes of Dumbledore be allowed to have any power over the school. The slate will be wiped clean, and once more, as in the beginning, Hogwarts would be devoted to providing a safe place for young people with magical talent to become functioning, productive members of society. _

_Aha, that brings me to another issue I meant to address some time ago, regarding my current reputation as a Founder. Everyone believes that I was a spiteful, pure-blood elitist with an active hatred for muggles and muggleborns. Of all the lies, this is the farthest from the truth. Hell, Godric had more of a bias than I. I could honestly care less about the origins of magical children, and I have actively defended children of the muggle variety. They are all humans, after all. Children are children, and are a sacred trust placed in the hands of adults. And honestly, only a moron would truly believe in that pure-blooded nonsense. It's a given that only by diversifying the bloodline can any species remain strong. Wizards make up such a small percentage of the population that it wouldn't take long before inbreeding would be rampant, usually making each generation weaker and sicker. Pure blood nonsense is detrimental to any species, but especially one as complex as humans, where any number of things can go wrong with the genome. It can be impressive sounding dogma for a dictator, as evidenced by Hitler, but is based entirely in weird science. How this label got stuck to me I'll never know, but perhaps after my death things will clear up somewhat. I did say that I plan to go out in style, after all._

Before I address this entry, I must amend my earlier commentary. I was wrong to doubt him, if anything he sugar-coated the facts somewhat. The level of manipulation and memory-altering spells we found in every last one of us drove the point in further, and ultimately verified his version of events as the correct one. I could see Albus getting his fingers into most everyone else's heads, but I was already a skilled Occulmens at the time. I should have been able to sense something, despite the teenage hormones coursing through my veins. Then again, I doubt anyone would have believed me, and I would have been shipped to St. Mungo's most likely.

When I try to picture Harry Potter as a muggle rock star, my eyes start to cross. I just can't reconcile that fact with the physical image I know. He certainly does have the rebel attitude most rockers try to affect, but I just can't picture it. I'd have better luck imagining Lucius dressed as C3-P0, as Harry mentioned a couple entries ago. I agree with him heartily, it's a shame that most wizards want nothing to do with muggle culture. It's a guilty pleasure of mine to go out to the movies fairly often, so I think he'd be pleased that someone is indeed appreciating his references. Lucius as C3-P0, that would raise spirits throughout the castle somewhat. I think it's time to enlist the aid of the notorious Weasley twins. Maybe the Creevy boy as well, I'm sure he could get a fair sum for pictures.

I personally never thought I'd see the day when the most commonly believed, supposedly most accurate fact about Salazar Slytherin would be so dramatically blown out of the water. When I opened the journal to this entry, several loose papers came tumbling out. Examining them, I decided that they should be sent away and published as essays against pure-blood supremacy. He certainly seemed to write them with that purpose in mind, and each one was signed as Slytherin. Maybe this is one of the steps he mentioned.

On a side note, either the whiskey or this damned book might be making me excessively paranoid. Recently, I have felt a presence watching me, but no matter what I do I can't figure out what it is, if anything. I could be jumping at air, living a life as a spy only reinforces constant paranoia and hyper-awareness of one's surroundings, but it somehow feels like I'm missing something. One time near the Quidditch pitch, I turned around immediately, wand ready, when I sensed a presence, and caught a brief glimpse of black feathers that quickly vanished from sight. If this continues much longer, I might develop a serious nervous twitch. Any and all spells I use to detect the intruder, as well as letting down my Occulmency shields briefly, has resulted in nothing. Either there's something out there that's toying with us, or I am just a paranoid old ex-spy with too much time on my hands. With my luck, it's most likely the latter. Well, nothing to do but wait and see, I suppose.


	11. Chapter 10

_Journal entry the tenth_

_If I were to continue this journal in the same vein that I have been, by all rights I should begin to cover the events of my fifth year. I don't think I'm going to at the moment, however. Just the thought of that Umbridge hag is enough to make me feel queasy enough to lose what little food I've managed to eat, so I think I'll wait until this bad spell has passed. There are times, even in the ravages of my illness, that are better than others, where I feel almost as I should. This is not one of those moments. I knew that I shouldn't have drunk that strange mixed drink at the club last night. Neon pink is not a proper colour for anything, let alone something supposedly edible. Note to self: no matter how hot the person offering the drink is, always look at it first. Then, of course, it did strike my weird sense of humour that a spiked, gothed-up Draco Malfoy was the one trying to get me drunk enough to head upstairs with him. I always suspected he swung that way, but even if I didn't have my impossible dream man to monopolize my libido I would never take Draco up on his offer. Not because of a lack of physical charms, he is quite the nummy treat after all, but because from my vantage point I can see the wistful looks passed between him and Neville, neither picking up on the fact that the other is interested of course. I think I'll get those two together, they would make such a cute couple. The right song to emphasize the feelings that they already have, and to bolster their courage, and they'll be shagging each other silly in no time._

_Since I'm lying here mostly incapacitated, I might as well write something. I've only covered the proverbial tip of the iceberg, after all. As a bonus, when I'm writing Sylvain stops hovering over me like a mother hen trying to get me to eat for the moment. He's my best friend, but the attention can get cloying at times. Ahh, one of my favourite songs just came on the radio (yes, I have managed to get muggle electronics to work in Hogwarts, and right now I'm picking up this fab station), and how appropriate that this song should play right when I am in the mood to appreciate it. I'm not the largest Green Day fan, but their song "Good Riddance", always strikes me right where I live. If you have the chance, get the radio/cd player that I'm sure is with the rest of my yet-unclaimed effects and pop in that song. It might shed some light on some of my more enigmatic moments, to be sure. I might include it in my set tonight, if I'm able to go out. _

_Ah, inspiration strikes me now, I know what the subject of this entry will be, not counting my earlier random ramblings. I have covered a decent portion of my life as Harry Potter, so in the interest of balance I shall now cover some of my life as Salazar. Before I begin, take everything that you, dear reader, thought you knew about the legendary Founder and forget it all. I wouldn't normally offer such a warning, but I'm feeling fairly benevolent right now and wish to spare you a headache._

_Since I've already covered my heritage in a previous entry, I won't insult your intelligence by rehashing it. I was raised by my druid/half elf grandfather from infancy, my mother left me with him right after I was born. This seeming lack of motherly love never bothered me at all, I'm actually grateful that she did such a thing. Maenads are not known for their stability or motherly feelings, the fact that she cared enough for my survival to leave me with someone able to raise me properly proved that she loved me. Growing up with my grandfather was a fantastic experience. He raised me to respect all nature, and the delicate balance of forces all around us. To him, nothing was impossible or set in stone, and he instilled this in me from an early age. He was a loving parent, and I couldn't have had a better childhood. _

_See, the thing about druids is that they generally have no built in prejudices, the view being that every creature has a right to exist as they feel they should. Yes, there was the occasional sacrifice, but it was purely in the interest of maintaining the balance of life and death. Most druids are able to channel a large amount of life and earth magic directly, and since it would disrupt everything to continue taking and never give anything back, the force of death must be present at times. It's far less bloody than most other organized systems of beliefs, since there is no one entity or force that is worshiped, but rather all of existence as a whole is treated with respect. _

_Even though I do embrace most of these beliefs, through my blood I also inherited a set of predatory instincts which tended to view the world in terms of hunter and prey. I was not shunned or rejected for my natural tendencies, but rather I was taken aside and taught how to fully appreciate them. There was a place for me in the world, perceived flaws and all, and it was up to me to fully embrace and learn everything I could about my nature. Before I set off into the world to find my own path, I was inducted as a high-level Druid priest, who would ultimately take over the post held by my grandfather upon his passing. Even at Hogwarts, I was still an active druid despite my other obligations. _

_It may surprise most that I was against the separating of Houses, but in order to make the best of things I created the Sorting Hat, with my friends' approval. Many people have remarked that the Hat seems to have a sentience of its own, and many theories have been spun about the Hat's true origins. My grandfather, while half-elven, was still mortal, and after a long life was faced with death from old age. Rather than sit around and wait to die, he sought me out at Hogwarts. He told me that his path ultimately led him here, and he offered his services in any way to the welfare of the school. My grandfather had one of the soundest minds I have ever encountered, and his judgment was always fair, balanced, and well-reasoned, so I proposed an idea to him, and he accepted. As I stood by his death bed, I readied the spells I needed and, at the exact moment of his mortal death, I bound his essence and mind into the old hat I wore in my Bardic days. Long story short, the Sorting Hat is none other than my grandfather, who even today remains sound of mind and judgment. Don't believe me, just ask him. When he was placed on my head as Harry Potter, he knew things about myself that I would only learn in my second year, but I begged him to silence, only to reveal what he knew if directly asked. _

_Well, now that my early origins are largely covered, let me move onto other events that, in either version, changed the wizarding world for all time. After I left my grandfather, I decided to become a wandering Bard, singing for my supper. This was a fairly cushy job, since I would have no problem getting food and room and board at the many keeps scattered over the country. It was in one such keep that I met Godric for the first time. _

_A common misconception is that wizarding society as it is known in Britain was established just after Merlin's time. In reality, due to the hostility of the locals and the fact that it was the Dark Ages, many wizards were still underground of sorts. Wizarding society blossomed with the Renaissance, but in order to gain prestige many of the more powerful families created fictional ancient family trees to gain that ever-elusive status. These fictional accounts became the foundation of wizarding culture, where only a couple of institutions are truly as old as they say. As far as I know, only Ollivander's and Gringotts have this status. _

_In reality, few wizards openly practiced their magic, and many wizarding children were born and raised with no knowledge of their origins or skills. These poor souls would often get hurt or even killed when they would occasionally perform accidental magic, the best case situation being exile. People have always feared what they don't understand, and this was the basic rule of survival at the time. Druids were one of the only ethnic groups to openly perform magic, but since it was viewed as a religion it was more accepted than most. Not to mention that no one wanted to be the guest star at a sacrifice or piss off people who could wipe out your food source. _

_So when I met Godric, he was a squire for this extremely crude and vulgar knight, and had no idea about what he was capable of. I could tell, from his fearful body language, that he had already manifested some type of magic, and lived in a state of constant dread that it would be found out. He was only a few years younger than I, but the haunted look in his eyes was enough to send a shiver down my spine. While singing for my supper, I watched him closely. Not many humans, even magical ones, piqued my interest like he had, and for some reason I felt drawn to him. Well, one night I headed down to the kitchens to get some of the local spiced wine and I encountered Godric's master, who was completely pissed on the same wine. He was trying to get one of the serving wenches to come up to his room, and kept bragging about how he would soon dispose of his unfaithful, filthy excuse for a squire. I don't think that was a direct quote, but it has been over a thousand years after all. Fear for Godric stabbed through me, and in that moment I decided what I should do. _

_No, I did not pull off some daring escape, grateful prisoner in tow. Instead, the next day I approached the knight and wove a story about how the roads were so dangerous, but I was unable to afford hiring the services of a full knight for escort. I offered a fair sum to the knight in exchange for acquiring Godric's services as a permanent escort and guard. He quickly took my money then laughed in my face about what a horrible deal I had made, that he was half-trained at best and more likely to slit my throat in my sleep than protect me. I of course knew otherwise, but I put up with his rant and took my new ward up to my room. He was scared to death of me at first, I found out later that he believed that I knew about his freakishness and bought him for the sole purpose of torturing him. I laughed in his face and, with a wave of my hand, cleaned and repaired the sorry state of his clothes. He then fainted promptly. Upon waking, I told him my story, and that I rescued him from his old master because I saw something of a kindred spirit in him. We left the keep in the traditional escort/master manner, but once we entered the forest our roles became that of equals, and he soon became by first and dearest friend. _

_For those poor souls that have actually read the fictional Hogwarts, a History, let me tell you that there was no rift at all between any of the founders, and that the circumstances of our parting of ways were tragic on all accounts, and were caused by exterior forces that we were fighting against as one. I miss them terribly. They were all fantastic people, and true friends in every sense of the word. It is for their memories, and the welfare of the children, that I do what I do. That is one of the most striking differences in my lives as Salazar and Harry, that I had friends and family that truly cared about me as Sal, and as Harry my first true friends were an owl and a basilisk, and I had no family to speak of aside from a talking, albeit wise, hat. _

_I think I'll pick up this tale at another time, not only to give you, the reader, a chance to regroup but to allow me to organize my thoughts. Damn pink drink, my head is still swirling. I think Draco, for all his horny intentions, will fall victim to more than one Canary Cream today. _

Why is it that as more of the puzzle pieces are revealed, that more and more gaping holes follow? About the only thing that appears to be accurate about the historical Slytherin is the almost inability to come right out with a straight answer.

I've already headed up to the Headmaster's office to speak with the Sorting Hat at this point, only to have yet more confirmation. I wish I could take everything he says at face value,but old habits are hard to break. Everything that he has revealed to date is more than enough to shake up the entirety of the wizarding world, but this information goes beyond any of our wildest dreams. To have first hand accounts of the Founder's days, written by one who had no reason to lie, is a treasure equivalent to the still-enigmatic Slytherin family tree. On that subject, Tom and I have stumbled upon an aspect of the tree that hasn't been referenced yet. Out of frustration one night, Tom began speaking in Parsel at the wall, I think demanding that it reveal the information we were looking for, and to our surprise several names and branches that were unintelligible began to clarify themselves. With further experimentation, we might be able to use the tree to it's fullest potential. I can't help but think that, in a perverse way, he would be proud of us, that his faith was not misplaced. I think I'm beginning to understand why these journals were left to me, precious few others would be able to appreciate them for what they are. Not only are they an insight to one of the most fascinating and mysterious figures ever to exist, but they are invaluable sources of information with riddles hidden within riddles.

As much as I detest the thought of agreeing with Alastor Moody, constant vigilence provided at least a partial answer to the feeling that I have had recently, of someone watching and following me. I was headed into the Forest one night to gather some night-blooming flowers needed for several of my more esoteric potions, when my hyper-awareness alerted me to another presence nearby. I continued about my task absentmindedly, focused on trying to isolate where the presence was. If I could find something, then I would be able to convince myself that I wasn't ready for St. Mungo's quite yet. Slowly, I raised my head to stare at a tree branch roughly a meter away from where I stood, where I encountered my elusive watcher.

Beady black eyes stared at me and then with a flick of its head it flew away, flying low enough that I could feel the breeze from its wings on my scalp. I, Severus Snape, a powerful wizard with observation skills honed by many years of spying, had a stare-down with a common crow. Perhaps I should start looking at those brochures for St. Mungo's after all. To add injury to insult, shortly after the bird left I heard a cawing from above my head, and when I looked up that blasted bird did something most commonly associated with pigeons and cars in cities. For a brief moment, as I angrily wiped the mess off my nose, I would almost swear that the cawing it made as it flew away for good sounded like laughter. A combination of my late nights and the whiskey are to blame, I think, for this incident. It's just a bloody bird after all, and not even a magical one. Snap out of it Severus, you have other things to focus on than bird-induced paranoia. Such as another whiskey shortage, yes, that will take my mind off that blasted bird. If I see it again, Merlin help me but it will end up as a set of spare quills if I have anything to say about it.


	12. Chapter 11

_Journal entry the eleventh_

_If I have ever said a bad word about the Weasley twins, I rescind them now. Those two are truly evil geniuses, thanks to them I managed to get my hands on some experimental WWW merchandise that wasn't yet in the store. Poor Draco never saw it coming, I'm sure, but he does look rather fetching in pink. And that sparkly feather boa was just to die for. For his sake, I'm glad that platinum hair goes with most everything, if he bore Weasley-red locks, it would have made quite the hideous spectacle. I wonder, though, why it was that he had no problem with the six-inch heels. Ah well, I'll just ask the portraits in the Slytherin rooms, they'll know. _

_Let's see, in my last entry I covered my first meeting with Godric, so let's continue in chronological order, shall we? _

_Godric and I traveled around the countryside as a wandering bard with escort, until I managed to teach him to play the flute, and then we became a duet. About a year after we had met, during which we were rarely away from each other's side, we entered this fairly large town, at least it was large by medieval standards. With our act, which was much better than most, we had many offers from wealthy and influential people to host us for the night. With offers like this, we spent about a month in this town, and would have likely spent longer if the circumstances are different. Don't get me wrong, the reason we left was more than worth it._

_One night, we were headed for the tavern to line our pockets and fill our bellies, when we encountered a sight that, even now, still haunts me. There was a young girl who was being held by several rather large men while an assortment of hideous torture instruments were being assembled in the town square. It seems that we weren't going to be the only source of entertainment for the night. I asked several members of the crowd, and found out that this poor girl had committed not one, but two deadly offenses. First, she had the nerve to impersonate a boy in order to apprentice herself to a scribe, which she had maintained long enough to attain journeyman status. Second, she had a bout of accidental magic when she spilled a full pot of ink on a manuscript destined for the mayor's household. I know, such terrible crimes, aren't they. I am eternally grateful that I was raised by people that had a very forward-thinking mindset, and I wasn't trapped by the medieval biases. Well, we just couldn't let anyone be horribly tortured like that, let alone a fellow incognito magic user. Godric and I quickly formed a plan, and while I provided a distraction Godric went over to the girl, knocked out her captors, picked her up like a sack of flour and ran. Basic plan on his part, I know, but he was never one for subtleties. _

_Now what distraction did I provide that would draw the attention of a large, bloodthirsty crowd, you might wonder. Well, I figured that since they were calling her 'witch', etc., let's see how they would react to a full-blown druid-trained wizard, with eyes glowing, striking down several buildings with lightning while cackling gleefully. Once Godric and the girl were out of the gates, I apparated away, after first conjuring a huge fire so it looked like I was returning to hell. I am glad that both of us were wearing glamours for that incident, because I had to return to gather our belongings, with none the wiser. Most people, when rescued from a horrible, painful, gradual death would be expressing their gratitude in gushing waves and collapsing from the emotional terror of it all. It was refreshing that when I returned the girl simply nodded thanks and asked us, very matter of factly, to reveal everything we knew of magic. So we did, of course. She told us her name, which was very unique and likely to be remembered in neighbouring towns, which would ruin our daring rescue, so the three of us sat down and started to think of alternate names. Eventually, from some obscure source that she never told us, she proclaimed that she would be called Rowena from that day on. Since she really had nowhere else to go, and her skills and knowledge were very rare, not to mention that she was such a refreshing person, she joined out motley ensemble as a manager of sorts, and we became a regular traveling troupe. _

_I think that this will be all I cover of my story for tonight, I still have a gig to perform after all. My preparations are all coming along as they should, but I need to recharge my battery for a blood-skill I'm just starting to develop. If I succeed, it might come in handy, as well as allow me to add another layer of protection to the castle and its contents. It's starting to become difficult to stay motivated, all I want to do at times is lie down and never wake up, I'm so profoundly tired. I know I can make it, but it will be tighter than I thought. _

_Maybe a diversion is all I need, something to take my mind off of things. Hm, I think I'll try to get Draco and Neville together tonight, FINALLY. I swear, those two dance around each other far too much. At the very least, I can feel like I'm actually making a difference. Even if it just leads to those two shagging like bunnies, I'll be able to see the impact of my actions. _

_I won't lie, I'm a bit nervous about throwing all of the eggs into one basket with this ritual. If I fail, or if something is even the slightest bit wrong, I won't be around to fix the mess. I have a very real possibility of screwing things up royally. I'm almost considering letting someone into my confidence, just to take a tiny bit of the burden off my shoulders. Key word here is almost, considering that of the only two possible candidates one would kill me on sight and the other would call me an impertinent brat and slam the door in the face after disparaging my so-called father to get a rise out of me. The crux of this problem lies in the fact that there is no one else who would possibly be equipped to be of any use. Ah well, it would be pointless anyway, I can't get close to Sev without wanting to either bite his head off or shag him senseless. As for Tom, well, the whole "must-kill-boy-who-lived" angle is getting tedious, and I can't afford to use my reserves to nullify the killing curse. Guess it's just me and Sylvain, then. Wait, maybe I could get Dobby to swear to me, he wouldn't be much to talk to but at least he could take care of some of my more mundane tasks. The company would be welcome. _

I had to read this entry twice, just to make sure that it wasn't some sleep-deprivation-induced hallucination. Then, in a moment of crystal-clear thought, all the pieces fell into place. As that happened, I fell to the floor. If Tom hadn't come by and poked me with his foot a few dozen times I would likely still be there.

I can honestly say that I never thought of Harry as more than a student, and a bothersome one at that. Perhaps, if we had met outside of school, and our ages were not so disparate, there would be a chance of me considering him in that light. Having read only the first portion of his distressingly thick journal, I have learned more about him than in all the years I had him as a student. I must wonder how much of his personality was Harry, and how much was Salazar, or whether there was any difference in the first place. I greatly respect his intelligence and wit, and even though I know that nothing could have happened while in the student/teacher dynamic, I can't help but wonder what type of man he would have grown into.

I have a distressing feeling that I would have found a kindred spirit in Harry, even as a student, but I was fool enough to let my past prejudices and hatred cloud my objectivity. I can't really believe that it was all mind-manipulation, to some extent we must have had free will. We had the planted information, as well as clues nudging us towards the desired reaction, but ultimately we all made the choice to do what we have done. He is more forgiving than I would have thought. It saddens me, in a way, that he spent his youthful fantasies on a washed-up, greasy old git rather than a fellow student that he might have had a chance with. Maybe it was better for him, after all he made it quite clear that he couldn't follow through with his desires because of his affliction. To lust after someone reachable would have made that torture even more acute. I can only hope that he's found some amount of peace now.

The sleep deprivation is starting to get to me, I think. It might just be an audio and visual hallucination, but I think that blasted crow is stalking me. Yesterday as I entered my potion's classroom to prepare things for the day's classes, I found a large black pin feather lying on top of some papers on my desk. I hope this is just a prank by someone who, somehow, found out about the forest incident. The alternative, that a bloody large crow managed to fly into Hogwarts, find its way into the dungeons, figure out which classroom is mine, land on my desk and shed one strategic feather, then escape with no one noticing it, is just preposterous. It is not helping that almost every time I walk by a window I swear I see a flash of black wings. Of course, no matter how quickly I turn, I never spot anything. This has got to end, I swear that I will go into the forest once more armed to bear, and come out with potion ingredients that still wear feathers. Of course, no one else notices anything off, and it is expected of ex-spies to have a residual amount of healthy paranoia after all. Bloody bird, if it is doing this with intent then it has to be one of the most annoying, troublesome, impertinent creatures ever to exist. The fact that I even consider that the bird has intent is enough to make me stop and wonder about my mental health. It's just a bird, after all, just a bird. A bird that will soon be a set of quills, if I have anything to say about it.


	13. Chapter 12

_Journal entry the twelfth_

_Last night was more successful than I could have dreamed. I knew that my choice of songs were designed to encourage shy lovers to approach the target of their affections, but I didn't think that they would start dry-humping each other on the dance floor. Even when I asked for a spotlight to be shined on them, they were so absorbed in each other that they didn't even look around. Damn, I'm good. And what a match it will be, Draco's self-assuredness and Neville's humility will balance nicely I think. If they manage to remove more of their heads from their own arses, that match-up could work._

_I think that I really needed this journal, seeing as confidants are exceedingly scarce for me. As I've written down some of my memories as Salazar, it opened up the proverbial floodgates. As much as I miss my friends, I cling to the happy memories they provide, since there is a serious lack of such in my time as Harry. _

_Before I move onto the story of how we met Helga, finishing our happy little group, a funny anecdote just came to mind. After all, how many people can say that they saw a supremely pissed off badger chase a full-grown male lion up a tree, only to keep him up there for hours? See, Helga was working on the grounds carefully cultivating a rare plant which escapes my memory at the point. At the same time, Godric was working on weapons practice, as he always did, and was demonstrating several techniques to his class. Well, Godric decided to get a little showy and throw in some battle magic, mostly to impress the students if I'm any judge. Now, most of the spells his the targets he indicated, but one blasting hex went astray. To be more specific, it went astray right towards the rare plants that Helga was working on. Needless to say, she wasn't very happy with Godric. There are few things that could scare me, but Helga in a rare temper does it every time. As sweet and loving as she is, you do not want to piss her off. Well, Godric put two and two together to get an answer of get-the-hell-away-from-Helga-as-fast-as-possible, which meant changing into his lion animagus. Helga, in response and anger, changed into her badger form and chased that poor lion all over the grounds. Since badgers have trouble climbing trees, Godric decided to scramble into the nearest tree. This solved that problem, but since lions are not aerodynamic and lack the power of flight the only way out of the tree was to climb down, which was a tricky feat considering the extremely pissed off badger waiting at the base of the tree. I don't think I've laughed harder in my life. Just thinking about it makes my sides ache still. Right, that out of the way, let's move on. _

_The three of us wandered about the countryside, singing, dancing, and using various other skills for money for a few seasons after Rowena joined our band. Not all of our skills were, shall we say, on the legal side of the fence so we spent a few nights sneaking out of towns with various artifacts of importance, writing materials, etc. On one such night, we were taking our leave of a lovely little hamlet that concealed an ancient druidic artifact that I was quite keen on possessing when we stumbled upon Helga. When I say stumbled, I mean literally stumbled, as in falling head-over-arse to the ground. This made more noise than we wanted, so Godric picked up the prone figure in the road and we sprinted to the woods. Medieval humans tended to be scared of the deep dark woods and the things that go bump within, so we were fairly safe there. If we were pursued, well, I am after all one of those things that goes bump. I could actually see the wheels in their head turn when encountered with a pair of glowing eyes that rest at least six feet off the ground. Many would then decide that it just wasn't worth it, soil themselves, and run away. _

_Once we were nice and safe in the woods, we decided to actually look at the bundled figure that we grabbed out of the road. We were all shocked when the filthy blankets were pulled back to reveal a short girl of about Rowena's age, with golden wavy hair, tan skin that showed at least some dark celt ancestry, and no visible injuries. Rowena and I quickly started to examine her once we realized that her breathing was far too shallow, and after a few hurried moments we found a faint scent of bitter almond on her lips. Whoever she was, she had been poisoned, ditched, and left to die. Now, most victims of poisoning would have died from their ailment thanks to a lack of medical knowledge or proper physicians, but fortunately for her I was quite well versed in poisons and antidotes. They always fascinated me, for some reason, and still do. After scrounging in the forest and examining my stores, I managed to brew the proper antidote with almost not enough time to spare, and we administered the potion with bated breath. At the time, the only counter to cyanide poisoning I knew was only strong enough to stop the poison shortly after ingestion, and could only repair some damage if it was extreme. We all breathed a sigh of relief when her breathing evened out and her colour returned, although it was a mystery why we all were so concerned about a total stranger that, unintentionally of course, almost got us caught by pissed-off locals with pitchforks. _

_With nothing else to do but make her comfortable, we retired for the night, taking turns on watch of course, until the morning when she finally began to stir. After calming her down and reassuring her that we were not going to harm her, she warmed up to us and told us why she was lying, poisoned, in the middle of the road. To best explain what had happened, I feel I must delve into what I know of the mindset of the medieval woman._

_For women, generally, their status and role depended on their success in attracting a powerful mate. Very few women managed to break through this bias, although I can think of several women that blew that concept all to hell. The rest had to try to attract a mate that would be able to at least provide the best environment to raise children, and many women took this one step further and sought to marry men that had high social status. Since most of these men killed each other off in various conflicts, the amount of potential suitors was usually far less than the number of women who desired to elevate themselves in society. For the women who managed to successfully become engaged to such a mate, they protected their position with any means necessary, even to the point of eliminating any perceived competition by any means. _

_Helga, before she met up with our motley crew, was a serving girl at one of the larger castles, and came from a poor but respectable farming family. I'm sure that she never did anything untoward, such things are just not in her nature nor were they ever. It appeared that the man in question, however, had different ideas and would perhaps gaze at her a moment too long, or request that she serve his table far too often. His fiancée was apparently of the more paranoid sect of status-seeking women, and most likely convinced herself that her position was threatened by a younger, prettier serving girl. Rather than simply get her dismissed from the castle for stealing or such, the fiancée took things to a much higher level by poisoning her goblet of wine, wrapping up her body and leaving her to die some distance from the castle. If the fiancée were to be around today, she would be called a stone cold bitch. _

_After gathering the story from a shaken Helga, and piecing together the gaps on our own, we naturally extended an invitation to join our happy little band. In some way, we were all misfits or rejects of the societies that we grew up in. Godric would have made a horrible knight, he has far too much honour and integrity for the role. Rowena had the misfortune to be born about a thousand years too early, when her intellect would have been celebrated and not reviled. Helga was an innocent that was stabbed in the back, and could not return to her home area for fear of her life. Hell, I had the most stable and happiest upbringing of the bunch, but no matter how I tried I could never really fit in with the other druids. All the magical creature blood that flowed and still flows in my veins separates me from the pack in many ways, tangible and intangible, and as it was I could not have stayed within my grandfather's circle for much longer than I did. Before I met Godric, I did seek out other members of my various creature heritage, and found them all more or less accepting of me, but I would never be a part of their societies. So, a merry band of misfits we became, and through our travels the thought eventually came that, between us, we had the potential to perhaps make things easier for fellow misfits. This line of thinking, which I will cover in more depth perhaps in other entries, ultimately led to the founding of Hogwarts._

_I'm not sure if this is a good sign, but the steamy dreams that I've been having non-stop as of late have been dwindling in frequency. Scattered among the dreams of Sev shagging my brains out are flashes of memories, happy and non, from both of my lives. Even though they occasionally cause me great emotional turmoil, I am grateful for each memory. I couldn't bear the thought of forgetting any of my friends, and I hope that wherever they are that they watch me and feel proud. Who knows, maybe we'll be reunited once more. I know that many would feel pity for the poor dying boy, but it's not like that at all. It would be nice to keep on living, but death holds no fear for me. Been there, done that after all. Besides, it's just another 'harebrained adventure', and one that, in a way, I look forward to. I've made my peace with death a long time ago, and I'll embrace whatever fate throws in my path. It's later than I thought, much thanks to the ever-so-handy tempus charm for alerting me to this fact. Time to start the farce that is the BWL anew for the next day._

For the sake of my mental well-being, I'm not sure if reading this journal in such a rapid fashion is the best idea. I will confess, I did feel pity for him up until this entry. As strange as it may seem for myself to defend him, I refuse to dishonor his memory by pitying him. He didn't seek it in life, and I'm sure he would not want it in death.

His words have been swimming in my brain for days now, pushing out most other thoughts. I've even taken points from my own house in this addled state. I could, with good reason, blame the incredibly powerful and revealing information I've been exposed to, but instead I choose to blame that bloody bird. It hasn't left me alone since the forest. The only positive thing that has happened in regards to that flying sack of potions ingredients is that other people have seen it, therefore lessening the number of people expressing concern for my mental state. Oddly enough, it chose to manifest itself during a Quidditch game between Hufflepuff and Slytherin where a bludger had become rogue. I do not know if it was by accident or design, but right when the bludger was about to strike a second year Hufflepuff seeker that bloody bird dives right in front of it, coming close enough that the student was left with faint claw marks on her forehead. Oddly enough, the bludger decides to follow the bird. Now, after this seemingly heroic action upon the part of the crow, one would think that my mindset would change. Perhaps that would have been the case if the bloody bird, after getting the bludger's attention, had not decided to fly straight towards me. Before I had time to react and get out of the way of bird and ball, that blasted crow veered up just in time, sending the bludger smashing into an unoccupied stretch of bleachers after almost hitting me. I don't care about what limited linguistics crows can accomplish, that bird was laughing. And then, insult to injury, it decided to mess up my newly-acquired robes before flying off to Merlin knows where. At least people aren't looking at me like I'm hallucinating things anymore. It's just hard to believe that the crow's actions didn't have any higher thought behind them. My fellow coworkers may need more proof as to that theory, but for me more than enough evidence is currently in the hands of house elves being properly cleaned.

I think I'll pay Tom a visit tonight. As strange as it may seem, even to us, there is now a comfortable silence during our occasional drinking sessions. It's nice to have a drinking partner who doesn't pester you with inane babble, provides for a very restful environment. It's almost enough to take my mind off of blasted birds. Almost.


	14. Chapter 13

_Journal entry the thirteenth._

_Ah, lucky number thirteen. To be honest, I didn't think I'd be so invested in this journal that I would get even close to thirteen entries. Well, since this is something of an unexpected occasion, I feel that I should really pour my all into this one, more so than previous entries. The only question is what to cover. I could further explain about my life as Salazar, and move onto the founding of Hogwarts, or I could jump to the other end of the spectrum and cover the more recent events of my fifth year as Harry, which unbeknownst to every other party involved came perilously close to starting a chain reaction that would have heavily damaged Hogwarts. Why else would I be so upset, after all. It's not like I really cared about the mutt after all, certainly not enough to grieve over him as many perceived that I did. What the heck, I seem to have made the decision, so let's delve into the misery and chaos of my fifth year, shall we?_

_Once again, we return to the Durstley's for another summer 'holiday'. That year wasn't nearly as bad as the others, mostly because I went Slytherin on them. After all, I didn't need magic to keep them in fear of one such as I. Waking up in a bedroom filled with all kinds of poisonous snakes tends to change certain behaviours quite rapidly, especially when only one person can keep them from biting. Just for fun once I had a juvenile asp ride along with Vernon one day strategically placed under his trousers. Kept him in line rather nicely, I think. Snake-filled summer notwithstanding, let us move to the incident that defined the beginning of the 'adventure', my encounter with the Dementors with the boy-pig Dudders quivering at my side. Hm, boy-pig, I could have changed him into a pig and fed him to Sylvain.. maybe later. _

_Anyway, this wasn't my first, or even second encounter with Dementors, and the reality of the situation was worlds away from what the Ministry alleged what happened. The Dementors were after me, but they were not acting of their own volition. There is just not a lot known about Dementors on average, but once in a while someone stumbles upon one of their aspects and exploits it. It is possible to gain control over a Dementor if you can find a certain unique artifact, after which they respond much in the way of the djinn. Now, one might say that the odds of someone with a grudge against me getting their hands on such an artifact and using Dementors as a weapon are rather low. Normally I would agree with you,except that I know the artifact was at the time in the possession of the Department of Mysteries. What a lovely bit of entrapment that was, I must give Fudge credit for that bit of inventiveness. Really, it must have seemed like a win-win situation for him, either the Dementors kiss me or I fight them off and get expelled for underage use of magic. What he, like his co-conspirators, didn't count on was that I had something of a rapport with the Dementors. By rapport, I mean that they were terrified of me, of course. _

_Faced with these remote-controlled Dementors, rather than use the laughable Patronus charm that I already discredited I decided to give them the Stare. Hah, when I hear people accuse certain professors of having a death-glare, I have to rein in my laughter. If only they knew that sitting next to them was someone who had a basilisk blood-gift besides that of parseltongue, they would have run screaming in pure terror. While the basilisk Stare is only deadly to creatures that are living, it has an interesting effect on shades such as Dementors. Rather than absorb the life energy directly, as basilisks do with prey, the Stare absorbs some of the physical material of shades as well as their soul-energy. As deadly as the Stare is to mortals, it's even worse for those inbetween worlds. So, once I lifted up my crystal clear set of inner eyelids and turned my head in their direction, they fled rather rapidly. After all, their directions were to flee if they encountered any type of resistance, as I found out from those same dementors later that year. The Ministry did not expect me to be able to fight them off without resorting to magic, so when they couldn't find any underage use of magic on my part they simply made it up and forged the reports. Yes, they directly made up the entire story. At this point, if you dear reader are of a suspicious and observant mind, you may be wondering about the mysterious disappearance of several key members of the Ministry at the beginning of my final year. Well... keep wondering. I'm not parting with that bit of information this early. _

_So, needless to say the whole trial was a farce, all it did was force me into the spotlight and once again portray the Great White Coot as my guardian and protector, as well as the Master of the Light. Ah, what fools these mortals be, if I may paraphrase the Bard. Oh, that reminds me, look closer at the tree, I'd say about two-thirds up the wall directly up from Tom. Anyway, I will admit that the trial was a strain on me, simply because I was getting sick and tired of pretending to the the Golden Boy, and I wasn't really looking forward to acting like an adolescent again, let alone on a public stage. _

_Upon my return to Hogwarts, things really started to get ridiculous. I do not refer to the papers and fellow students turning on me, they have done that every single year after all and I was fairly used to it, rather I refer to that pathetic waste of life named Dolores Umbridge. Hag decided to take over Fudge's vendetta against me in the one place where I should have been at least partially protected. Now, by now Umbridge's various offenses, such as the blood quill, are well-known. What no one else figured out was that it wasn't her sole mission to make my life miserable and turn me over to Ministry custody one way or the other. No, far from it. Fudge may be an incompetent moron that I wouldn't even use for cannon fodder, but he had ambition in spades. Yes, he _had_ ambition, but I'm not telling about that yet, am I? Her real agenda was to basically strip Hogwarts of her power by finding the Keystone and, if unable to destroy it, then to corrupt it to the point where the school would be stripped of much of her magic and defenses. What is the Keystone, you may be pondering at this point. Don't bother trying to research it, you won't find anything. The only souls to know about it's purpose, powers and location were we four Founders, and since we protected it even further with the much stronger original version of the Fidelus spell, only one person could say anything about it. And of course the secret keeper was the one Founder who was more or less immune to capture or torture, yours truly. _

_Of course, with these stipulations no one at the Ministry knew what they were looking for, since they had no knowledge about the Keystone, but they knew that somewhere in the castle was the magical core that gave Hogwarts the ability to be largely self-sustaining. They had no idea whether the core would be embedded in an object, or a certain ley line configuration, etc. so they equipped Umbridge with various magic-sensing spells and artifacts designed to point out areas with high magical concentration. I shudder to think how close she came to finding it. For a nasty, bitter toad she was fairly resourceful. There was no way she could have destroyed it, but she was equipped to do enough crippling damage to harm the school. If she had succeeded in her goal, the results wouldn't have been what she desired, but it would have still been terrible. For once I won't dive into the details of the consequences, just know dear reader that they still make me shudder to this day. In a sick way, Dumbles (who was working to some degree with the Ministry against me) shot his own plans all to hell. If I hadn't had my great awakening in the Chamber, where I regained all my past memories and powers in addition to my current ones, then she would have been unopposed in her quest to destroy Hogwarts, and likely would have succeeded to a degree. _

_People have been underestimating me for quite some time now, and this once I was grateful for that fact. With the lack of knowledge about what the Keystone really is, the Ministry were ill-equipped to go against me. They couldn't have realized that each Founder had imbued the artifact (no, it's not really a stone) with a portion of their own magical cores, as well as bound it with ancient blood-magic. Nor could they have realized that, because of that aspect, the Founders had complete direct control over every detail of Hogwarts. We could apparate in and out of the wards directly, change the shields with a thought, and even draw from the immense core of magical power that we bound to ourselves and the school. As the secret-keeper, I was tied even closer to the Keystone than the others, and since I was the strongest of the four in terms of sheer magical power due to my creature heritage, I was able to protect the school in a way the others could not. We wanted to ensure Hogwarts' survival for as long as possible, so in order to do that we enacted another blood-ritual, the purpose being that as long as at least one of my blood-kin survives, Hogwarts cannot fall. It can be damaged, but not destroyed. There was no stipulation as to whether the kin would be of humanoid descent, and I knew that many of my relatives were extremely hard to kill if not immortal. We all had equal status within the school, my being singled out was simply the most practical method. Human bloodlines can die out rather quickly, at least compared to mine. There are dragons and basilisks, for example, that are far older than I. _

_Once I had thwarted Umbridge, a process that took most of the year, things still didn't calm down for me. Forgive me if I skip past the tedious time with the DA, that was a pure front for Dumbles. As for my 'lessons' with Severus, I do regret that I stumbled into his pensieve. I am a natural Occulmens and Legilmens, and the strain of hiding this from Sev in order to maintain my facade, combined with the ever-growing fatigue from my illness, virtually ruined any slight chance of my getting even a kind word from the man. With his pensieve, I literally did stumble into it, my legs had decided to give up for a moment and down I went. A sad occurrence, to be sure, and possibly my only regret. I can't even apologize, since it would be rejected immediately. _

_Now, on to the Department of Mysteries fiasco. As I mentioned earlier, I never experienced the visions that I claimed to have regarding Voldemort. So, why did I rush off to the Department of Mysteries, if this wasn't the reason. After having my centaur allies capture Umbridge, I decided to interrogate her in the Chamber to gather information on any other plans being enacted. I was shocked to learn that they were setting up a trap to flush Voldie out into the open, if he even existed. After all my hard work giving him his body back, I wasn't about to let a bunch of fools have their one lucky day at his expense. So after concocting a proper sounding story which eventually became the official version of events once more, I rushed off to the Department to save Tom. I truly didn't expect Sirius to follow, but I do not blame myself for his encounter with the Veil. No, he is not really dead, like many artifacts the true history of the Veil is unknown to most. At some point, he will emerge from the Veil on his own. It could be an hour from now, or a hundred years, but he will come back at some point. I don't miss him very much, he wasn't around a lot to start with, and when he was I would get very tired of his antics. _

_I think I'll end this entry here. I know I haven't covered the prophecy yet, but the rocker in me loves to leave my audience wanting more. Tonight should be fun, I've got dual billing with one of my musical idols, the Thin White Duke himself. Apparently he heard that I do this fantastic cover of 'Life on Mars', and decided to pay me a visit while in town. I'm becoming something of a celebrity in the musical world, almost as much as in the wizarding one. The key difference is that I earned my rock star status, of course, and that the attention is welcome and mutually beneficial. I give them a hell of a performance, they sustain me magically, everyone's happy. Hm, I wonder if Draco and Neville got the tickets to the show tonight that I sent them, anonymously of course. I've taking a liking to those two. Well, enough for now, on with the show!_

I wish that I could say that this version of events is surprising, but I've become resistant to his shocking revelations. Of course I am dying with curiousity regarding the elusive magical core of Hogwarts, and I can't help but wonder if the true history of it is lost for all time. If only I could have told Harry that I did, reluctantly, forgive him for his intrusion into my pensieve, maybe my waking hours wouldn't be plagued with such guilt.

Finally, after taunting me with references to his rock star status, he gives me a clue to work with. I must admit, the look of shock on Draco's face when I asked him about that concert was satisfying in a twisted way. I don't think I'll tell him how I know quite yet, he is still a bit shy about making his relationship with Neville public. After a few pointed questions, Draco revealed all he knew about the mysterious singer. In every show, he wore a long black leather duster covered in silver runes, with no shirt underneath. Around his neck he wore a silver serpent collar with gleaming green-yellow eyes and no visible seams, and a large dark green top hat with a single black feather in the brim obscured most of his face. Skin-tight black leather pants and old roman-style sandals rounded out his ensemble. He stood roughly 6 feet tall, with lean but not bulky muscles, and the only clearly visible part of his face was, oddly enough, his eyes, which in certain lighting seemed to glow a vivid green. Draco mentioned that occasionally, when the lighting was right, he could see a strange scar beneath his left eye that ran across the bridge of his nose. When performing, he usually used the name Lazaras, which seems to fit in with his style of taunting his audience.

Wondering at my interest, Draco left briefly to get the only CD he ever recorded, which consists of mostly cover songs that were crowd favourites, but mixed in are two original tracks. The track names are written in ancient runes, something that I'm sure appealed to his twisted sense of humour, but Draco informed me that they loosely translate to "Son of Blood" and "Flight of Death". The first title is a bit ambiguous, but the second made me burst into laughter. Harry was really mocking the overall intelligence of the wizarding world with that one. Flight of death, of course, can be translated in French as Vol de mort. I'll give him credit for that sick, but intelligent joke, that showed a certain level of style that I can appreciate. Draco, alas, did not connect those two pieces, and was spooked by my sudden laughing fit. I think I'll take the CD tonight for the late night drinking session with Tom, it seems oddly appropriate to do so.

Before I take my leave tonight, I feel compelled to write an update about the bane of my existence at the moment, that Merlin-forsaken bloody bird. It's been getting bolder and bolder as of late, I have even encountered it in my private chambers, resting on the back of my favourite reading chair. At mealtimes in the Great Hall it often flits around stealing food from everyone's plates. That bird just can't be natural, it's showing a level of intelligence and cunning that outstrips even the first years. Even the house elves are nervous about serving any type of poultry dish, even through the crow seems to enjoy their roasted chicken. It's been disrupting most classes as well, although in History of Magic it does keep the students from dozing off during Binns' lectures. That blasted bird has even joined the occasional Potion's class. Either there has been a string of extraordinary coincidences or that bird knows what it's doing, but it has actually prevented several cauldrons from exploding by stealing and usually eating the wrong ingredients before they get added to the potion. That may be giving it too much credit, but it certainly is not some garden-variety crow.

Occasionally it actually lands on my shoulder, digging in its impossibly long and sharp talons slightly if I try to swat it off, so I am forced to act as that bloody bird's chauffeur if I wish to keep my arm attached to my body. In a castle filled with powerful, battle-ready wizards and witches, we are held hostage of sorts by an apparently non-magical large crow. Bloody marvelous. And, of course, the bird has seen fit to torment me especially, disturbing papers on my desk, making enough noise to wake the dead while I'm trying to grade papers, and so forth. I find myself grabbing for my wand more frequently than I should, but I just get the feeling that the bird would dodge whatever I throw at it. Now I really need a drink, so I will take my leave for the night. Hopefully, it will be crow-free, but that's getting to be too much to hope for.


	15. Chapter 14

_Journal entry the fourteenth._

_Last night was phenomenal. I'm not even sure I can describe how honoured I was to meet David, let alone climb up on stage with him and deliver one of the most memorable performances that the club will ever bear witness to. For the first time in a long, long time I actually felt alive, vibrantly so even. _

_Well, let's see, I left off my previous entry before covering the infamous prophesy that is one of the reasons that my life was turned into a living hell for much of it. That does seem like a logical starting point for this round of venting, after all it has to be one of the most elaborate yet hidden tricks ever pulled in the wizarding world. First, let me state that the prophesy is pure drivel. Completely, utterly, entirely false. If it was entered in some type of fiction contest, it would likely win hands down for most outrageous plot twist. _

_Think about it for a second, my dear reader. According to the official version of events, the damning words were spouted from the crackpot Trelawney, whom I wouldn't trust to see a car heading right towards her, with only the dear head of the laughable Order as a witness. I apparently was the only person to find this highly suspicious, since I was fully aware of the levels of deception Dumbles could reach and no one else shared this view. I'm not sure what the thought he was gaining by trying to keep knowledge of a false prophesy from me. Maybe he thought I would cave in to his demands to learn the answer. Dumbles may have been a clever opponent, but he had a nasty habit of underestimating the resources of his opponents. The portraits were more than happy to pass along information, and I actually spent a few days in Dumbles' office watching him while completely imperceptible. I never really needed the invisibility cloak, not with all the lost and arcane spells I know, and in many cases wrote. _

_I wish that, in order to maintain the facade, I didn't have to bring along those children with me to the Department. It was rather frustrating to be among all those artifacts that, in all probability, only I knew how to use anymore and not being able to go after them. It couldn't be helped, I guess, but at least I didn't have to take them on my second trip, where I fulfilled that particular desire. One would think that security for a bunch of extremely powerful and mysterious items would be stronger than that of a public library, but that was not the case. As a result, I managed to walk out with many important and powerful artifacts that have proved invaluable as of late. For a brief moment, I almost looked around to see where Godric and the girls were, it was that much like old times. We were a merry band of rogues, long ago._

_Right now I am tempted to advance with one aspect of my plan ahead of schedule, I've been inspired by this entry. In my humble opinion, and for the good of Hogwarts, the Order of the Phoenix must become defunct. The members, whether they are being controlled by the Coot or are just naturally incompetent, are doing far much more harm than good. I know, they intend to come to the aid of any "good" witch or wizard that needs their help. With all their intentions, they have not only paved a road to hell but turned it into a huge overpass. As it is, I already have plans in motion to disband the Death Eaters, and even if they weren't a bunch of foolish well-wishers I would still enact the demise of the Order just for the sake of balance. If one force were to exist without the other to counter it, the consequences would be horrific. Weird of me to care about the fate of the wizarding world in this way, but I only consider the effects on the families of our students. That's it. Everyone else can hop on that overpass with the rest of the fools and have a merry one-way trip. It is not my place to say what grown humans do with their world, but I will do whatever it takes to protect those that aren't able to protect themselves. It is the responsibility of those with the power to do so to protect the young however they can. Usually I can't help but wish that there was a test that adults needed to pass in order to bear young, other than the practical of course. _

_This may sound weird, but in a sick way I was looking forward to returning to Privet Drive for the summer. A strange thing to say, I know, but it would be my final time, so I could really cut loose on their pathetic hides. At the end of my fifth year, after the prophesy fiasco, I knew, in a primal way, that I wouldn't make it all the way through my sixth year. It's one thing to know you're going to die, it's a much different sensation to have an idea as to when. It's very liberating, actually. For the first time, I can drop most of my masks and not worry about repercussions. I can say what I want, within reason, and not worry about pissing off people that I soon won't see anymore. Ironic, I can start to truly live when death is upon me. But hey, I'll have a bit of fun along the way. I must say the look on Vernon's face whenever I would spring one of my little surprises put a large smile on my face. He did have a use, I will give him that. Several parts that he will likely miss terribly but can exist without were very useful as potions ingredients. Gave me a real pleasure to harvest certain parts of his anatomy in particular. I think the only thing that scared him more than me using sharp tools near those bits was the fact that I was singing a lively Gilbert & Sullivan tune while doing so. It's not my fault they are uncultured swine. _

_I have yet to enact the plans I have designed for my aunt and cousin, who are not in actuality blood relations of mine. Lily Evans was adopted, a fact that has been glossed over, and comes from a long line of squibs from a famous lineage. Ah, if the current head of that family only knew that they were my cousin, there would be fireworks. Oh, wicked idea yet again. I'm currently finishing the time-delay spells on my journal and a couple other things, I think I'll compose a separate letter and cue it to appear to my long-lost cousin as soon as this sentence is read by another party for the first time. I love magic, I really do. Makes for some interesting practical jokes. I would like to imagine that, a few minutes after the letter appears, whomever is reading this will hear a earth-shattering shriek, coupled by a loud thunk sound made by my cousin fainting in shock. Oh, I can add a spell so that, when that happens, little bluebirds and stars will circle his head. Aaaand I think I need to stop watching so many cartoons, an influence is showing. If I start buying things from the Acme Co. or grow a mustache just to twirl it ominously, I'll just jump off the tower. The thought does make me giggle though. _

_I think I'm going to retire for the night, I have a long weekend planned, and I will likely need every ounce of strength I can muster, but after this weekend, should everything go to plan, I can relax for a while. After all, what I'm attempting hasn't, in recorded or unwritten history, ever been successfully performed. I always do best when the odds are against me, though. Since when have the rules ever applied to one such as I, anyway. My very existence is something of a fluke, a meshing of bloods that have never before or since combined to such a degree. For a near impossible creature, anything can happen. All I have to do is have faith in myself, even if no one else does, and things won't go pear-shaped quite yet. _

_I think I'm writing this just to stall, there's an ingredient that I need to collect, but the thought gives me the willies. Seriously, the person who first concocted this part of the rite must have been one sick, twisted, depraved individual. Still, must be done, so off to the nearest brothel. I hate brothels, as do most creatures with a halfway decent sense of smell. Ick. All those bodies rutting, most with only the barest concept of what hygiene means. At least there will be quite a few confused naked people running around town at the end of the night. That will give me a bit of good cheer. No, I do not need those clothes for my rite, I just feel the need to prank some perverts. The few clothes I leave behind will probably be laced with good old-fashioned muggle itching powder, or that lovely muscle rub that goes on cold but heats up almost unbearably. Oh yes, that sounds fun. There's a brothel near the club, I think I'll use that one so I can see the end results. Well, off I go._

Well, tonight has been interesting so far. Before I started with my nightly reading, I decided that it would be good to have some company in case any revelations prove too much for me to handle, at least without copious amounts of firewhiskey. So I was, and still am for that matter, in my quarters with Tom sitting across from me, my godson Draco sprawled out on my couch, and that blasted crow sitting on my shoulder, giving every indication that it is reading over my shoulder, impossible as that sounds. Nothing is impossible with that bloody bird it seems.

True to his word, a letter did manifest after reading that particular part of the entry. Imagine all of our surprise when it appeared right in Draco's lap with a quiet pop. Of course, when receiving a letter addressed to oneself the first instinct is to open it and read the contents. I checked the Slytherin tree to see if clairvoyance is a blood gift that Harry possessed (he didn't), because oddly enough what he predicted would happen was exactly how events played out. I will confess that my first reaction after seeing the cartoon birds and stars appear was to get a camera I confiscated earlier from a Creevey and take a picture. It isn't often that the head of the illustrious Malfoy line falls into a very undignified faint coupled with cartoon birds flying and occasionally pecking at his head. To add to the elements of classic physical comedy already present, the bird (which I swear was laughing) decides to hop over to Draco and stand on his prone chest, staring at his face and holding perfectly still. When Draco eventually came out of his faint, the first thing he saw was a larger-than-normal crow staring just inches from his face. In all my years of knowing Draco and helping take care of him, I never knew that he could hit such a high note, even screaming.

By this point I had given up on the entry for the moment and was laughing so hard that my sides are still hurting. Even Tom joined in, laughing so hard that he had to pause and gasp for air. I swear that that crow, despite the notable handicap of not having lips, had a large, evil smirk on its face. I now understand why people have been laughing when I have been its target, it is bloody hilarious to watch someone get cut down to size by a supposedly inferior creature. That doesn't mean that I will let them get away with laughing at my person, certainly not.

After I had finished with it for the night, I passed the journal over to Tom. He has as much a right, if not more, to know its contents. As perplexing as the information regarding the verity of the prophesy is, I find myself straying to wonder what it was exactly he needed to get from the brothel. On one hand, the thought is tantalizing me, and on the other I think that I really don't want to know. Just from what I've learned about this side of his nature, I think that the Weasley twins would worship him as their idol. I had no idea that this prankster side of him existed, and I must wonder now if the Weasleys were in fact responsible for every major prank that occurred during their stay here or if they were just claiming responsibility on the orders of another.

Before I settled down to write my contribution to this effort, I popped in Harry's CD, for Tom and I to hear for the first time. His voice is amazing, it truly is. So expressive and heartfelt, he must have used the performances as a form of release. Draco informed us that there is a bootleg DVD of a live performance floating around, and that he was currently looking for it. If he manages to find it, I would love to witness his show. Even though my own musical preference does not usually mesh well with the songs he chose, I find myself pulled into the performance. The two original songs are sung in a strange, but beautiful language that I imagine to be ancient Gaelic, but could be something completely different. Translations are printed in the cover book, but the song itself is so well-done that the listener doesn't really need the translation to feel what he is trying to express. For a man with so many masks and personas, he is remarkably real when on stage it seems.

Draco offered to show us memories of the shows he went to via pensieve, and I think we will take him up on it. Not tonight, of course, we are all far too drunk to want to do more than enjoy the music and sleep. Thank Merlin for whomever invented the hangover potion, and I am very glad that I brewed a bit extra earlier. I think I should retire for the night, at least from this. Who knows, I might be able to get a decent night's sleep even with the blasted bird in the room, who is at this moment starting to drink from my glass of whiskey. Good, serves it right, because I will certainly not leave any hangover potion out with bird access. Maybe that will teach it a lesson. Can birds even get hangovers? Guess we'll find out in the morning.


	16. Chapter 15

_Journal entry the fifteenth._

_The sweet taste of success. I am almost to the point of complete and utter exhaustion, but I have at least another month before I have to do anything on the bloody rite. With all modesty, damn I'm good. I don't think that I could have pulled this off without the memories and powers from both Harry and Salazar, so in a strange way I suppose I have Dumbles to thank for aiding me in this, hastening his own downfall by a considerable margin. _

_Now that everything is squared away at the moment, I find that I am at a loss with what to do with myself. I really do not want to get involved in any student activities, and I can't really play too many gigs one after the other. Sylvain's been trying to get me to go out more often, and as much as I value our friendship he's been getting on my nerves. I think I should humour him, but where should I go. There aren't any major events that I'm aware of, and I want to shirk the spotlight a bit. Wait, I know, I've got to check but that would be perfect. Back when I walked as Salazar, there would be Council gatherings at about this time every year. _

_What is the Council, many might wonder. Well, first of all, humans are not the only intelligent sociable beings to walk the planet, they just have opposable thumbs standard. The Council was formed long before I was born, and was a way for representatives from various magical creature communities to gather and share information, form strategies and alliances for whatever conflict might be happening, and have a bloody good time. If I haven't missed it, I could easily attend as a Druidic representative at least. Of the humans, only those of Druid stock are permitted in the council because of their generally neutral standing and respect of balance. Wizards and muggles need not apply, any that show up will likely be invited to dinner. This doesn't sound too bad, except that the human would be the main course, maybe appetizer and dessert as well f there are enough of them. Half or cross-breeds might be accepted if they pass registration, that's left to an individual basis. _

_Yes, that would be perfect, all other creatures would respect the status that my robes reflect, and my past will not come up. Throw in my status as one of the only true Bards to exist, and I'll be quite the VIP. Hell, by now I'm probably related in some way to a good number of representatives anyway, it will be a family reunion of sorts. I wonder if the Naga-im will send a representative. That would be wonderful if they did, I'd love to catch up with them. I'll ask Sylvain to ask around about that, it would get him off my back for a bit. I mean, it's bad enough I have to deal with Dobby's good-natured but smothering attention, throw in a super-protective basilisk who uses his time as pseudo-Hedwig to keep a close eye on me and it's a bit much. _

_Well, that was a good bit of rambling and train of thought writing, methinks 'tis time to move on with my saga. Let us see, in the last round I decided to cover some time as Harry, so we shall move on to the age of the Founders. It seems that no truthful account of the early days of Hogwarts had survived even to the Renaissance. I'm glad in a way that Rowena isn't around to witness the tragic loss of all the records that she painstakingly gathered and recorded, it would break her heart. For such a large tale, I think we should start at the beginning, which is usually a good place to start anyway._

_As a merry band of performers, rogues, occasional thieves, and such, we wandered around much of Europe at the time, far more than most Dark Age denizens could ever dream. Along the way, we practiced our various skills and trades, but by far the most important, yet most secretive, skill we traded was magic instruction to various wizards and witches we would encounter. Most of these had no idea what they were or why they were able to do what they could, so we provided a valuable resource. In many ways, this is when Hogwarts was founded. I refer to Hogwarts as a castle and sanctuary at times, but that's only due to the amount of care we poured into its construction. Really, Hogwarts is the concept that people can learn about their magic in a safe environment, without fear or prejudice. The school as it stands today is just the logical extrapolation of that concept. The spirit of Hogwarts, after centuries of belief and acceptance, is tied almost exclusively to the physical castle, but it's not strictly necessary. _

_After a few years of wandering, we grew to desire a more sedentary life. Not a soul among us wanted to stop with our magical instruction, which quickly became our main function and tradeable skill, so we pondered the situation for some time. It was Rowena, naturally, that came up with the concept of a school exclusively for magic-users. She was the only one of us that ever went to a formal school, Helga and Godric were briefly home-educated and I was group-tutored for much of my early life, so the thought of a school wasn't immediately apparent to us. Once the idea formed, it seemed like a natural conclusion. From our travels and exploits we were each sitting on a sizable hoard that we had stashed with the goblins. Interesting fact for you dear readers, Gringotts used to be an exclusively goblin bank, and the only reason that they agreed to store our money for us was my familial connections through the Naga-im side. _

_Now that we had an idea of what we wanted to accomplish, the most difficult part lay in front of us: finding a suitable location tolerant of magical messing-around. By this point, we had explored much of Europe as well as our own isles, but we could not think of a place that fit our admittedly strict criteria. Ultimately it was Helga that found the present-day site of Hogwarts, she was the most magically sensitive and intuitive of the troupe. We trusted her judgment, so we all sat down to work out our strategy for not only getting a castle built, but the blueprints, goals of the finished school, potential staff and students. That took ages, but was well worth it. The fruits of our labours stands still to this very day while our immediate opponents of the time are all long gone. It saddens me when I see the lack of teamwork prevalent throughout the student body, and even the professors. If only they knew how closely we all cared for each other and the extreme levels of trust and support we demonstrated, things might be different. Eh, I don't have enough energy to waste on what-ifs, even if I do have some free time. _

_Ah, a song that just came on reminded me of all the fun I had last night. The brothel prank was all I could have hoped for and more. Some of the people were just walking down the street completely naked and not caring in the least. One guy tried to get on his motorcycle and rev it up completely starkers. There was much screaming and whimpering that followed. Yet another naked man, whom was obviously extremely intoxicated, stumbled into the pub where I was watching the fiasco and tried to feel up everyone in there, myself included. He actually did wonders for my reputation. When he approached me, the first thing he did was grab my crotch. I was too busy laughing to stop him, and the wide eyes when he succeeded in his mission, coupled with the "Holy Mother of God" he uttered and appreciative whistle made everyone in the pub look at me with awe. Of course I gave them all my classic smirk and pushed the drunk, naked, and by now highly aroused man to the floor. He followed me when I tried to leave, so to get him off my case, and to relieve a bit of stress, I let him give me a decent blowjob in front of the pub. Poor guy, he was desperate to do so, and I do give to charities after all. It wasn't the best I'd ever had, but it was enough for the moment, and he was so happy that he didn't even jerk himself off before stumbling down the street. I wonder what eventually happened to him. Maybe I'll check the papers._

_Sylvain just returned from his hunting (he has grown to love his owl form so much that I gave him the ability to switch back and forth. Apparently it's far easier to fill himself up in owl form, far less food needed), so I think I'll propose the idea of heading to the Council. My only trial coming in the near future, if I do head off to the gathering, is trying to convince Dobby that he needn't accompany me. For a supposedly subservient house elf, he has a stubborn streak a mile wide. I'd rather slam my head against the wall than try to argue with him, so we'll see what develops there. _

Bloody crow. Merlin-blasted bird. I found the answer to my question, birds do not get hangovers. At least, if they do, they don't show it. The first thing we all heard when we woke up, seeing as we all passed out in my chambers the previous night, was an unnaturally loud, shrill cawing. That might have been not so bad, except the bloody bird did it RIGHT. BY. MY. EAR. Needless to say, I was not amused. A small, insignificant part of me almost pities the first class I had today, I will confess that I was in an understandably fowl mood, pun intended.

For the first time since I began this trial of endurance, I know something of an event that he references, even if by a different name. I always heard of this Council as the Dark Revel, and for those wizards who have even heard of such a thing, it is usually viewed as a gathering of evil nasties that go bump in the night. Of course, nothing is ever that black and white, but the public refuses to believe that simple concept. Individuals can be intelligent, reasonable, and insightful, but people as a group are idiotic, gullible, panicky creatures that should be kept away from pointy objects.

I digress, let me resume with what little I know about the Dark Revel. According to wizard lore, which seems to hold many gross inaccuracies and oversights, the Revel is a gathering of Dark creatures at certain times of the year, and is a source of potential allies that dark wizards can draw from. Of course, there is no documented case of anyone ever heading to the gathering and returning in one piece (I found one notable exception in the 1600s where the wizard returned tied to the back of his own horse. He was still alive technically, but his tongue was cut out and limbs all removed. Attached to him was a note stating that the group of wizards should send someone with a little more meat on their bones and leprosy-free) , so most of the information comes from secondary sources. I hope that, at some point, he covers his time with the Council if he managed to go. To have a reliable primary source of information would be invaluable. Progress is being made with the whole Dark creature legislation at the ministry, for all his faults Lucius is doing quite well in the Minister of Magic role, but any information would aid in the process. I think that Harry would be proud that many of the old restrictions have already been overturned, and true legal equality is within reach.

I will kill that bloody bird one of these days. I can't even be left alone to jot down a few notes, it is currently flying around the room, occasionally diving down, grazing my head, and returns back to circling while doing that highly annoying bird-laugh. I'm even starting to see things, I swear that bird just executed a perfect Wronski feint while attacking a stack of books on my table. Sleep deprivation plays tricks on the mind, after all. I think I'll cut this short, I can't take it right now. I will chase that bloody bird out of my quarters by any means necessary, even if it means breaking out my old broom, which is currently a dust magnet in my closet. So help me, I will not be outsmarted and terrorized by something that, according to Dumas, can be added to a rich stock to improve colour and flavour. At this point I would even settle pointing it towards another victim. Ah, that idea has merit. Let it chase one of the other professors, or even any of the seventh years. How to pull this plan off, that is the question. I should be able to resolve this to my satisfaction shortly, and perhaps I could get a decent night's rest.


	17. Chapter 16

_Journal entry the sixteenth_

_That was an interesting week. I wonder what my fanclub thought of the fact that I disappeared for a full week with no notice, but I can't bring myself to care. The Council gathering was just what I needed, even if both Dobby and Sylvain conned me into taking them along. Yes, I, the wizard known chiefly for my cunning, could not out-argue a house elf. In all fairness, Dobby isn't like most house elves. And Sylvain refused to let me leave the grounds without proper escort, arguing that most of the representatives arrive with a retinue anyway. It was still fun to reconnect with that part of my past._

_When I arrived at the gathering site, it was as if I had never left. Everything, the buildings, the trappings, and the traditions were all the same. I was amazed that so many bloodlines were represented, even Tom-as-Voldie showed up with Nagini as his entire retinue. When I went near him, the reek of Dumbles was a bit weaker than it was in the graveyard, so I held hope that he would be somewhat sane. Other than doing a small amount of pureblood ranting, he was very respectful towards all and followed the conventions to the letter. I found myself enjoying his company quite a bit. No, he did not recognize me as Harry Potter, but he did recognize me as a kinsman as well as respecting my Bardic status and Druidic ranking. I think, on some levels, we actually bonded . All I know is that it was refreshing having a chess player who was of a ranking with myself. Oh, if only Dumbles was able to witness us interacting as equals in a non-hostile setting, I'm sure he would panic. He's probably not even aware that his primary pawn attended such a neutral event as the Council. _

_I must admit, it was refreshing being treated with the deference one of my status deserves. I know that, as Harry Potter, I shun the spotlight at every possible moment, but when it comes to a legitimate reason for respect I am more than willing to use it to its fullest potential. After all, I am involved in a war of sorts, and would be foolish not to exploit any means to my end. I found and rediscovered many contacts that could make my life just a tad bit easier, and even more interesting. _

_I was more than pleased when I encountered parties not only from the Naga-im but the unified Druidic clans. They were both skeptical of my claims at first, since I am the only creature to possess all my gifts at once in either incarnation, but it was easily enough to prove that I was at least of a direct descent from Salazar (more direct than any of them could begin to guess, ha), and therefore earning their respect and just a touch of deference. I was actually offered to take the test to gain standing as a Druidic high priest, which I turned down since I have no need, not that they could know that. I was floored, however, when I met the Naga-im representative, who happened to be none other than the father of Salazar Slytherin. Even though he did not realize that I remembered him, he was pleased to meet someone from my bloodline, and it was just great hanging with dear old dad. It was all I could do to keep from laughing when Tom, my current father, and Selasseth, my previous father, decided to hang around me almost as part of my party. I do have the most interesting family, it seems. The only thing that could have made the experience even more sublime on my part is if my dear mother had decided to join in the fun. Now that would have been hilarious. I know that she's only half-Maenad, but she definitely chose to side with the wild women, much to the chagrin of the elves and indifference of the druids. _

_It's really quite funny, even though my bloodline and status were made quite apparent, many rumours were circulating as to who I was, my background, my powers, and not only how I knew about the Council but why haven't I attended before now. For a group of very long lived species, on average, they reminded me irrevocably of a group of teenage human girls gossiping about the new bad boy in school. Of course I kept up with this air of mystery, just for kicks, and it threw them for a loop when I showed up with no retinue save a house elf (of which no one else brought with them), and a monstrously huge eagle that usually wears scales in real form. Always a show-stopper, that's me. Well, it serves me well in the clubs at any rate. _

_As fun as it was to reconnect with my past and reevaluate my future paths, it was a relief to come home. I know that my Chamber might not seem to be the most livable of places, but no one save myself knew of the secret password-protected rooms that are really quite luxurious. My bones can't take much of a chill, so at this moment I am sitting in front of a huge fireplace that would rival most, in a large comfy chair wrapped in many soft velvet blankets. I feel that a little bit of pampering is necessary, and now that I write this I can just imagine Tom running all around the Chamber looking for the secret entrances. What fools they be if they think that the Tree is the extent of the hidden secrets and surprises that abound in my Chamber. I am quite a prankster, and it's not called the Chamber of Secrets for nothing. Go on, look around if you dare. If I'm feeling particularly charitable I just might throw out the occasional clue to aid in the frantic search that I know will happen. _

_Let's see, whom would be the likely culprits. Tom most definitely, he's needed as the only resident Speaker, but who else. Ah, Draco, my dear cousin. He just might still be reeling from that revelation, so his sense of pride would lead him down to my hidey-hole. And with those two, we need someone of intellect and common sense to balance out the Silver trio. What am I thinking, there could be only one candidate for that position, none other than my dear, sexy Sev. I think I might leave a surprise just for him. Oh yes, that will work, and it will give me something to do while I wait for the potion to finish. Oops, let it slip, there is a potion that plays a key role in my plans and I am in the midst of brewing it. Don't bother searching in any known text, my dear reader, you won't find it. I am a Potions Master in my own right, and like many I've written down my creations. Where might these pages lie, you might wonder. Well, they rest in... _

_Nope. Not going to make it that easy. Besides, I want people to finish reading my journal, so I must leave some mysteries unsolved, at least for the moment. Frustration can be a great motivator. Speaking of which, this tome has been protected against every form of destruction I could think of, and I know many that have been lost in history. Try throwing it in the fire, I dare you. C'mon, you know you want to do it. Spending night after night reading the ramblings of a cynical smartass who can't directly answer a question and raises two questions for every answer hinted at, patience must be wearing thin. Of course, don't expect any sympathy from me. _

_And now for something completely different (I adore those brilliant idiots, so had to pay homage), I was toying with the idea of continuing the tale of the founding of Hogwarts, but I think I'll leave that for another time. I'm not quite senile enough to ramble on about such events without rhyme nor reason. Maybe in a week or two I might be, or at least I could fake it. Speaking of faking, I do wonder, now that I think about it, what my fan club thought of my absence. It is morbidly tantalizing the more I think about it. I think I'll show off a new tattoo or two. Considering that the tattoos were the end result of a drinking binge with several dryads, high and dark elves, and dwarves I'm amazed that they came out as well as they did. Even more amazing is that I somehow managed to perfectly recreate the magical runic tattoos that I bore during my time as Salazar while completely pissed. I know I've said it before, but damn, I'm good. So good that I'm going to leave all my dear potential readers wanting a good bit more._

Merlin, he named us the Silver trio. I've observed that his sense of humour is twisted at best, deplorably sick at worst, but he continues to astonish me with the depths of his depravity. Well, it did make Draco turn a rather strange shade of red-purple before erupting in a cry of "No!" that could reportedly be heard from the Astronomy Tower. It could be prolonged exposure to the inner workings of Harry's twisted brain, but I found myself smirking and almost laughing when things progressed in almost the exact same way as he predicted. As of tonight, none of our unlikely trio have found any more secrets yet to be revealed. If my experiences regarding this journal have taught me anything, it's to pay attention to the small clues. My 'surprises' in the Chamber are likely the potions journals that he referenced. I have no doubt, regarding his surprises. that he has many sick, depraved plans up his sleeve even from beyond the grave.

His grave, that's right, he never got one. His body was destroyed, or at least that's how it appeared when he finished doing whatever he had planned. A good amount of time later and no one really knows what happened. As much as I hope for it, I seriously doubt that he will reveal all in this text. Crafty bugger, this must be part of his revenge. It might be a stretch, but we've underestimated him horribly over the years, so he could even be responsible for that flying one-bird plague that has been unleashed on this poor school.

Yes, the crow is still flitting around as if it owned the place. I'm not nearly as aggravated with the bloody bird as I was, mostly due to the fact that I found another target that it likes tormenting just as much. As unbecoming and uncharacteristic of me to show sympathy, I must pity my poor godson to some degree. He's had a rough week. Do not misunderstand me, I still wish to be rid of that pestilence once and for all, but since that seems to not be an option at least I can control the damage done to my person. It seems to have decided on a truce of sorts with me, which is more of a connection I would like with the blasted bird but is satisfactory for now.

There is something definitely unusual about the bird. It's not magical, at least in any sense of the word that we are familiar with, but it's not your standard carrion eater. It's far too intelligent and sneaky to be under another's control, and it is just not natural but I swear that the bird does laugh. Granted, it's a snarky, smartass type of laugh, but still more than a bird is capable of. Maybe it was a familiar of sorts. Cats, toads, and owls are the most common types of familiar, but by no means are they the only species given to magical assistance. Crows and ravens have the reputation of being difficult to gain and keep as a familiar, so very few wizards could succeed. Finally, a place to begin searching for an answer to the Great Crow Mystery. I do not think that it escaped from its wizard, largely due to the fact that said wizard would have put out any number of announcements and rewards for its return, given the difficult nature of the birds. So that leaves either the wizard dying suddenly, or changing familiars and abandoning the bird. Given the nature of this particular corvid, I can completely understand why someone might have wanted to rid themselves of its presence.

Just thinking about the bird, coupled with the usual headache from dealing with a snarky bastard's journal and being unable to throw it at him or take thousands of house points, gives me a headache. I just acquired a new bottle of firewhiskey, I think it's time to crack it open with some appreciative company, so this will be it for tonight. At least I won't have to deal with a drunk crow, that will be Draco's problem. Heh.


	18. Chapter 17

_Journal entry the seventeenth_

_Merlin, seventeen entries already, where does the time go. Oh, that's right, it flies when one is having fun, and I am enjoying myself more that I probably should arranging all the nice little pranks and inside jokes I have in store. All my plans are going as they should, so why shouldn't I have a bit of fun. Recently I've been experimenting with time-delay hexes that can only be removed either by the caster or after a predetermined amount of time. I've already incorporated a couple into this text, so what the heck, before I move on with some of my history I'll give my readers a good laugh. _

_That reminds me, if you hear a scream or encounter a frantic Ron or Hermione fairly soon, well, I always thought they would look good in Slytherin colours. Most people would restrict themselves to clothing, but why not extend the House pride to the skin, hair, eyes, and even nails and tongues of the victims, er, "lucky recipients". And since the canvas will be prepared, why not include a couple inspiring phrases in the mix. Since so much is going on visually, well, honesty is a virtue, so let's make them the most virtuous people on the planet in that way, letting their honest opinions rip with no heed to tact or other social conventions. And since it is a good thing to show House pride and some humility, let's have them stay that way until the caster removes the hex, since there is no time limit on this particular spell. _

_Oh, wait, that's right, I'll be long gone by this point, so there will be no way to remove the hex. Golly gee, that's so tragic it makes me want to laugh like a hyena on ecstasy. Oh, I'm such a naughty boy, naughty naughty me. I need a spanking for that one, hmm, maybe Sev would take me up on that. Mm, forbidden student/teacher S&M, it's enough to make me drool. I know that most men get hot when I Speak to them, I wonder if Sev shares that fetish. After all, his voice can damn near make me come in my pants, so why should I not be able to return the favour. Ooh, now I really need that spanking. _

_You know, I've changed my mind about revealing more of the history I started a couple entries ago tonight. My journal, my prerogative. Instead I think I'll do a dissertation on most of the central figures of my tale, let the truth be known. I have a dual motive for this, on one hand I want the people that I am either neutral towards or genuinely like to stop beating themselves up over my fate, yet on the other I want all the rest of the scum to know exactly, in scathing letters, how low my opinion is so they can live with that hanging over their heads for the rest of their natural lives. Since I'm still not sure who will be receiving this book (which has and will be the source of many a magical occurrence, you have been warned), I will also send letters to each individual I mention with slightly more elaborate versions. _

_Let us start from the beginning of my wizarding existence as Harry Potter, shall we? Of course the natural person to talk about at this point is my first encounter with the wizarding world, my meeting of Hagrid. Poor gentle giant, he must be beating himself up horribly over me. He was my first adult friend in the wizarding world, and was my best in many ways. Sure, he knew me only as the BWL, but he liked me for who I am as well. Whenever I had any problems that I needed to talk about, I knew that I had Hagrid as an option to unburden myself. I care for him deeply, which is why I left him the grounds of Hogwarts in my will, so that no one can ever take him away from the school that we both love so dearly. I'm sure it came as a surprise during my will reading that I am the rightful legal owner of Hogwarts through my own bloodline, I'd bet that plenty of people fainted. I'd like to imagine that Hagrid is the caretaker I never knew in this life, someone who looked out for my safety not because of some screwed up game but because he cared whether I lived or died. Such an honest, gentle, caring soul, anyone who crosses paths with him will end up a better person for it._

_Next, let's tackle Draco. When I say tackle, of course he will be physically tackled by this lovely little hex I found not too long ago. Let's expound on this, I'll set it so that he gets tackled (playfully, of course) every time someone reads a certain word in this journal. Just for fun, let's make it "sick". So, in other sick words, every time my sick, sick mind comes up with some sick notion to work the word "sick" into my sick but honest text, he will be tackled. I have such a sick, twisted mind. Did I say that it was sick? Very sick. Extremely sick. Tremendously sick. Ah, what fun. I love magic. Moving on, part of me still wished I had taken Draco's hand that first day, things would have likely gone the same but at least I would have had some intelligent, if arrogant company. I don't really have anything against my dear cousin Draco, he can be a bit of a prat at times but at least he's honest about it. Besides, he's a lot of fun to rile up and prank, our archenemy status made things quite enjoyable for me most of the time. Most people would think that I was a truly sick individual (heh, couldn't resist) for enjoying the conflict, but it provided a refreshing counterpoint to the SICKening (again, I am so naughty) time spent with Ron and Hermione._

_Ah, Ron and Hermione. I will give those lowlives credit, they achieved a high level of treachery at a very young age, in that aspect they are both prodigies. Acting so superiour, using me for my celebrity and to gain status, you'd think they came from spoiled rich backgrounds. I think it's rather clear how I feel about those twits, yet when they stabbed me in the back it still stung horribly. At one point, I actually cared about them, I thought they were really my friends and not just acting on orders from a senile, sick old man (hehe). If they think that I am done with my revenge, they are sorely mistaken. They have no idea whom they went up against, and let me assure you dear reader there are far worse things being planned for their miserable hides. I seriously doubt that the eventual recipient will feel very sympathetic towards those two, so my advice is to sit back and enjoy the ride. Believe me, everything that happens to them is nothing more than what they deserve, and the journal is not the only thing with time-delay hexes on it. The worst is yet to come, so enjoy the show! _

_Let's move on to my dear head of House, the lovely Minerva. Such a talented witch, but so self-absorbed and oblivious she missed the clearly obvious signs of malnutrition and illness (bet you thought I was going to say the magic word, eh?). The spell placed on her and others were to encourage certain behaviours, but the reason that the spell isn't illegal is because the person retains some degree of free will. Sure, she was being yanked by puppet-strings, but if she possessed the formidable will she claims to have then it should not have had such an effect on her. Long story short, I don't really like my dear transfiguration professor, but nor do I hate her. She's just there, like a faintly annoying fly buzzing around your ear._

_Of course, thinking about that spell leads me to the manipulative old man himself, dear Professor Dumbledore. Oh, where to start about this know-it-all old fool who simply wants to use others to regain the glory he found after Grindelwald. For someone of his reputed talent and knowledge, he certainly screwed things up for himself in spectacular ways. Well, at least he's no longer a threat. How do I know that he will no longer be a threat, you are likely wondering dear reader. The answer lies, dear, in all the preparations that I have immersed myself in. As smart and manipulative as he supposedly was, don't mess with the master. Not only am I successful with my schemes, but I like to believe that I have a certain flair, however sick, that lends credence to my skill. _

_Let's end this for tonight on a high note and move onto my objet de lust, the snarky, sexy Severus Snape. Interacting with him has been the biggest challenge to date, since I've been fascinated with him ever since our first potions class. Sure, most kids would have been as offended as I pretended to be, but in reality I was star-struck by the vision in front of me. Most of my attention problems in class are due to my trying to stop staring at his nice, shapely bum whenever he would walk past. I know that I'm physically and mentally attracted to him, but I remain unsure whether or not I love the snarky git. Just thinking of him gives me a dreamy feeling. Even though I cannot be with him in this life, I hold out hope that, if another life is in store for me, our paths cross once more under a more favourable star. _

_A side note, I almost pity Draco. Almost. The hex is now permanently tied into the whole text, so that any time the word is read from this point on the effects will happen. One difference, since I don't want an undue amount of physical trauma to happen, I am now changing the effect from tackle to tickle. Personally, I think this is even more devious than the sick, twisted original version. I am such a sick, sick, sick bastard. _

_Speaking of sick, reading my entry back so far I just realized that I chose the people in this entry loosely based on a popular American tv series' horribly catchy theme song. I won't be so bold as to reveal the show directly, but I will clarify one point. By the order listed, my love interest would fall under the "Marianne" part of the song, and that might seem confusing. Well, I always thought that she was hot in those shorts, and I admired how she somehow deflected the attentions of all those horny men she was stranded with. What can I say, both get me hot and bothered, so it was a natural placement. I really need to stop watching all those old reruns, but they are just so deliciously campy I can't resist. Just sit right back..._

_Always leave your audience wanting more, so ta for now my dear reader._

_P.S. Sick sick sick sick sick sick sick sick sick sick sick sick sick sick sick. There, Draco should be out of breath and a lovely shade of crimson. The letter I'm sending you, my dear reader, has the same power as the journal, so you now have portable tickle control of Draco. Have fun!_

Whatever substance he was obviously on when writing this entry, I wish I had some. I stand in awe of his spell-crafting, Draco is currently lying on the floor gasping for breath with a large bird trying to slap some sense into him. I think my godson is scared to be alone when I read these entries, just in case he's in the middle of something important when one of these beautifully crafted yet fiendish hexes manifests. Who knew he was that ticklish anyway. I would normally consider it beneath my dignity to even try out the letter that materialized a little bit ago, but the temptation is strong. Maybe there's a subtle hex on this blasted book that would make me more inclined to follow through with his harebrained, yet clever schemes.

I was a bit surprised that he decided to be candid, for once, about people he knew. Whatever Harry included in Hagrid's letter, I hope that it will bring our caretaker out of his cloud of sadness. With his insightful nature I'm sure that it will have the effect intended. I have not as yet read mine, even though both Tom and Draco have read theirs. Judging from the reactions on their faces, a wistful teary smile from Tom and complete shock with a trace of dread from Draco, I shall wait until I regain a modicum of privacy. We three have been gathering for the readings, and I think that we are all better off for it, even though I am still the one primarily responsible for the reading and transcription of his journal.

It is now starting to really frustrate me regarding the Plague of Crow. Part of me, the slightly paranoid but intuitive part that was honed during my Death Eater days, tells me that Harry has something to do with the crow. I can't find any magical signature, or any other trace for that matter, but since when did the rules ever apply to that twisted genius. I have no doubt that, after enough time, light will be shed on the situation. In the meantime, I get to enjoy the sight of a multi-millionare pureblood heir getting beaten up in a comical fashion by a bird. Tom and I both agreed that it was necessary that Draco learn some humility in a harmless way, so we share the blame for his current predicament.

Right before I sat down for my nightly additions to this compilation, I thought it might be prudent to find Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger to assess the damage. What we found stunned every member of our "Silver trio" into silence, quickly followed by hysterical laughter. Harry truly outdid himself, even the blasted bird was laughing with us to the point where it couldn't stay perched on Draco's head. Both of the former members of the Golden trio are completely tattooed with green and silver swirls on every visible part. Their hair is now a sickly shade of green with silver streaks throughout, the whites of their eyes have been replaced with shiny silver, their pupils are now a uniform, familiar shade of killing-curse green, and written on both foreheads is the inscription "I will not tell lies" written in mirror language. Once I threatened to take house points for the silly prank they fell victim to (knowing full well they can not do anything about it), they ran quickly to Gryffindor Tower, where I imagine their letters were waiting for them. We will learn the contents on the morrow, I suspect.

There is something that perplexes me, and that would be his reference to Dumbledore. No one presently knows his whereabouts, during Harry's swan-song he was the target of an unfamiliar spell, that despite the language still sounded nasty, and the next moment he had disappeared. Despite numerous search parties before the truth of his nature became known, and a few token attempts afterward, not a single trace of one of the most powerful wizards in Britain was found. In this, I find myself trusting in Harry's judgment. As depraved as his mind may have been, all of his actions were necessary and right. Perhaps sometime in the future we will learn about my former mentor's fate, but I will not lose any sleep over it. Ah, sleep, a truly enjoyable state of being when there is no huge black bird watching you sleep. I think that I will partake in that lovely activity once I try to figure out what song he was referencing at the end. I may know more pop culture than most wizards, but I know precious few things about American television. Perhaps a clue lies in some of his yet-unsorted effects. I must know who Marianne was, and why the devil I was viewed as an appropriate comparison from his point of view. I get the sinking feeling that the answer will likely be as twisted as the man who made the reference. Well, I've gotten this far, it would be a shame to stop now.


	19. Chapter 18

_Journal entry the eighteenth_

_Eureka. Something has just fallen into my hands that would make any who know the real me even slightly tremble in fear. I now have in my possession several very rare scrolls that were written by a wizard from ancient Egypt. These scrolls were once the pride and joy of the priesthood of Anubis, and contain many spells and rites that, used properly, would give the master powers that would rival the god himself. They were thought lost because, in an attempt to save them from destruction at the hands of various invaders, they were stashed at the Library of Alexandria, which soon came burning down. Smart move. _

_I can't wait to start investigating them, I have to wait because at least one of them can only be read by the light of a full moon, but in the meantime I'll content myself with the rest of the stash. See, more survived the fire than was recorded by history, and recently about a third of the library's total catalogue is now in my possession. Kid in a candy shop indeed, these new sources could help me fill in a few gaps, and who knows, hidden within these dusty scrolls and tablets might be tidbits of information that could not only change the game board, but blow it to pieces. Things will get interesting very shortly. At the very least, I can content myself in the meantime with a scroll from ancient Greece that details several very creative and twisted (dare I say, SICK) pranks that haven't seen the light of day in millennia. I've only skimmed over it right now, but what the heck, I think I'll try it out. Remember the children's story about the Emperor and his new clothes? Well, the prank I've enclosed in this entry is loosely based on the original version of that tale. Just wait and see..._

_With this free time, I've been working on several pet projects that have been bothering me as of late, and finally I've made progress with one of them. I snitched a small amount of Sev's latest Wolfbane potion and have been experimenting with it. I believe I've had a breakthrough that would allow the werewolf to retain full human awareness while not blocking the wolf entirely, make the transition relatively painless (according to my willing test subject it feels something like the word "squick" sounds, if that makes any sense), and allow them to shift at any time they want. Sev was already very close and probably would have made the innovation fairly soon, I just had the advantage of much more free time on my hands as well as not having to deal with students who barely know which end of a spoon to stir with. I think I'll slip it to him, say it came from his fairy godfather or some such thing. I know from the Longbottoms' potion that he is compliant with my strange workings, at least to some degree, and this will ensure that his name will live on as one of the greatest potions masters ever. It really was his brilliance that got this far with the potion, all I added was free time and the input of a twisted, sick, but clever brain. Really, I wouldn't have had the inspiration if I hadn't been partially raised by a werewolf in my Salazar days. Great girl, Aunt Rosalind, she used to take me for wolf-rides as a kid. Unfortunately, I don't think her pack exists anymore, likely wiped out during the Inquisition/witch-hunting days. _

_It's a shame, they had a very interesting Lore that would be lost now. Maybe I should try to track down those tablets, it should be somewhat easier than my Alexandria acquisitions. Oh, as for how I now possess a third of the ancient Library, weeell I made some **very** good contacts at the Council meeting not too long ago, and it was offered to me in exchange for a gallon of basilisk venom and one of Sylvain's old shed skins. I'd say I got a good bargain, after all those components are readily available to me but no one else, and just a few drops of basilisk venom in the concentration that I traded would go for about a thousand Galleons. I don't need any money, but there are things worth far much more. The wisdom of peoples long dead before even my first life now await my attentions. Tremble, mortals, because if knowledge is power I just acquired a huge nuclear arsenal. _

_By the way, the evil sounding laugh you just heard was in fact my voice with one of my many time-delay, text-triggered spells, of which I am getting quite proficient in. Just because, when this journal will be read, I won't be around is no excuse for skimping on the quality and quantity of my pranks on the unsuspecting populace. I think I'll experiment a bit more with the vocal hexes, they look like fun. Well, fun for me, anyway. Now, let me return to a bit of my own ancient lore, before I become consumed in my quest for enlightenment and future pranks. _

_As anyone undertaking a large enterprise knows, the idea is just the beginning of a long, arduous process. Sure, we came up with the idea of a school after a bit of thought, but we had to find a way to implement that idea in a way that would ensure its survival. The first task we undertook was finding a suitable location for the castle to be built. Yes, we had all agreed that a castle would be the only feasible building that would house a large number of students and be able to keep them safe from those who would do them harm. So we roamed around until we found a site that had all the factors we were looking for: seclusion, easily defendable, inaccessible to careless wanderers, and a high concentration of ley lines. _

_Ironically, it wasn't until I returned to my childhood home with my friends in tow that we found everything we were looking for just outside the clearing. When I had been living there, I suppose that I had always been aware of that location, but I never thought of it in any type of usable context. Once I had explained what our plans were to my grandfather, I could tell that he was quite pleased and proud of us. After some discussions with the other elders, and a few conclaves, he pledged to aid our efforts in any way possible. As strong as our faith was in ourselves and each other, we were all secretly terrified by the scope of what we were attempting. His offer lifted a huge burden off of our backs, one that we weren't even aware of. _

_I forget offhand how many years that horrid book "Hogwarts: A History" claims that it took to build the castle as it stands today, but the reality of the situation is that it took far less time than expected. Within three years most of the castle was completely built. I know that seems like an impossible figure for a building as large and complex as Hogwarts, but we had an advantage that was never mentioned, namely my non-human bloodlines. How nice that, thanks to the diplomatic matings of the Naga-im, I was related in some way to a large number of creatures. After a bit of sweet talking on our parts, and a hefty down payment, we enlisted the aid of the finest centaur, elven, werewolf, dragon, dwarf, basilisk, leprechaun, brownie, gnome, giant, ogre, and faerie engineers available. Throw in our own considerable powers and the aid of the Druids and it was a cinch to erect the castle, not to mention laying down the basic defensive wards and such. _

_It was an interesting experience, especially since at the time several of the representatives were embroiled in wars with each other. I would just like to say that the thought of such an extensive family reunion, while highly efficient, still gives me cold chills. I never want to have to pry a score of leprechauns from the back of a giant while said giant was being chewed on by several werewolves, three brownies, and one small dragon, which was being chewed on itself by an ogre and several faeries, ever, ever again. They worked well during the building process, but many of the races weren't big on fireside chats. The only personages that could interact with all the groups without fear of chewing, blasting, hexing, or being treated as a scratching post were us four Founders and my grandfather. Myself and my grandfather seem like rational choices, but you may wonder why the other founders, who were pure human. Even though they had no creature blood in them, each was a powerful and charismatic wizard in their own right, easily a match for most if not all of the representatives present. In addition, they were neutral parties, since at this point humans hadn't done much damage to any of the species. Of course that would all change later, as evidenced by the slightly changed Council policy of dealing with humans. There was a time when they were allowed to attend as observers only, but after a few too many burnings and rabid fools with pointy sticks, otherwise known as knights, and the other set of rabid fools with pointy sticks known as wizards, their current policy is reasonable enough. _

_Well, that was a bit more then I planned on revealing in this entry, but when the muse strikes I must obey her call. I've done my deed for the day, it's time to completely engross myself in my new, much expanded personal library. I know that many would share this history-shattering knowledge with the world, but eh. I have far too much experience with how history can be twisted, and these scrolls and records deserve better than that. Eventually my whole collection will come to light, but in the fashion I find most suitable. _

_For you, dear reader, I have enclosed a surprise in this entry. I have yet to decide exactly whom will be the lucky recipient (I can be quite the procrastinator at times), but I have narrowed the field down considerably, so here's what I will do. At the end of this entry a time-delayed post will be sent and should very quickly arrive to you, dear reader. I have selected certain parts of the library for each of the potential readers, so the post that will be activated will depend on the magical signature of the candidate that reads this for the first time. Don't waste time trying to stop it, it's on its way, enjoy this gift from the distant past. Oh, I recommend ducking in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1..._

_Hah, you didn't duck, did you? I bet not, you were too busy reading to realize the natural progression of numbers. I've said it before and I'll say it again, I love magic._

Birds. Should. Not. Be. Able. To. Laugh. Bloody package hit me right on the nose. What kind of sick mind would prepare a spell like that... wait. Forgot for a second that I was dealing with a diabolical genius. Even with the bruised nose, I might have been able to salvage some dignity if I didn't have an evil, evil bird laughing at me. Draco I can terrify, Tom I can certainly intimidate, but that bird is immune to every glare, spell, and scathing bit of language that I have thrown at it. Just not natural, that bird, and it possesses quite possibly the most annoying, sardonic laugh known to man. Quills, I tell you, one of these days I will have a brand new set of black quills.

I can't imagine how, even with all the money and charm in the world, our dear resident smartass managed to convince some of the most prickly and hostile non-human races to work together without major bloodshed for that length of time. The main reason the castle was finished in that length of time was likely due to all the races wishing to get as far from each other as quickly as possible. Could it be that Salazar knew that, I wonder. Now that I think about it, I would think it would be extremely unlikely if Salazar did not come to that potential conclusion when they brokered this deal. Layers upon layers of careful and cunning planning went into the building of Hogwarts, far beyond even what we know I suspect.

I shudder at the thought of all that knowledge at the hands of a self-described sick, twisted individual. I'm not sure if the shudder is one of pleasure or intense terror. I can only imagine how he put all those ancient records to use. I trust his judgment, but not his sense of humour. It's bad enough that this journal, and likely everything else he left behind, is booby-trapped, but now it has the potential to be laden with tricks that we have no knowledge of. At this point I am grateful for his affection and respect towards me. I have only been made the victim of a couple pratfalls, at least I'm not horribly disfigured for life like his former friends. Nor, for that matter, have I been made the victim of a fiendish tickling hex. I must confess, I have used the scroll given to me for my own amusement. I have not shown Draco that part of the text, so he has no clue regarding the source of his sudden bouts of tickling when I am nowhere near the journal. Perhaps I have adopted more of the snarky, sarcastic traits of my acting days than previously thought. Maybe not that much of it was an act after all. Food for thought, that.

I always wondered as to the identity of the mysterious person who left that dose and several notes written in archaic yet legible script on my desk that day. I am rather surprised, not as to the identity of the brewer but rather the fact that I did not connect those particular dots between the Wolfbane potion and the anti-Cruciatus potion Potter "accidentally" brewed. Due to that innovation, I am one of the most well-respected Potions Masters in not only Britain, but all of Europe. He was right, I would have come up with that innovation eventually, but my attention was being pulled in too many directions. Today there are werewolves walking around Diagon Alley without undue fear or residual pain from the transformation.

I will cut this short for now, that blasted bird just found my most recent purchase, a brand new bottle of fine single malt from Islay. I don't care if it is a fiend from hell or something akin, I refuse to have it defile my scotch. I will examine my "gift" tomorrow after a good night's sleep, I have a feeling I'm going to need it, and then it's back to the chamber to search for the obviously secret library. Even from beyond the grave, he's making my life more complex than it probably should. Oh well, grey hair is supposed to look distinguished. Although I do not yet possess such locks, I am sure I will by the end of this.

Now to chase off a bird that probably has more of a drinking problem than I do. Joy, oh rapture. At least I remembered the large, long, armoured leather gauntlets and goggles. Learned that lesson the hard way over a bottle of decent merlot. Hopefully a little poured, sweetened firewhiskey will distract him from his goal, and I'll derive at least some pleasure from watching a bird stumble around like a sailor on shoreleave.


	20. Chapter 19

_Journal entry the nineteenth_

_Ah, tis the time of year that brings cheer and joy to those who have the ability to appreciate it. No, I do not refer to Christmas, silly reader, but my dear Hallowe'en, a time of year when things are not all they seem to be by default, and anything can happen. I was tempted to attend the ball this year, I had even chosen a potential costume just to scare the hell out of every wizard present. Now, not everyone is scared of the same thing usually, and I am a very sick individual (I still giggle from that), but there was just one glaring possibility that tantalized me to no end. I wonder what a room full of wizards would do if someone dressed in the (very realistic) costume of none other than our dear Voldie. _

_I'll have to wait on that, however, because a far more twisted opportunity has crossed my path. It seems that they were desperate for musical acts this year because of the repeated threats and attempted attacks on the school, so they went to the students, asking the older ones for their favourite musical groups. Amazingly, but not too surprising, my name came up, and a couple nights ago when I headed to the club for a standard act I had a message waiting from me from none other than Dumbles himself. I guess the students figured out I was a wizard of some sort. Of course, since this greatly appealed to my perverse sense of humour I decided to agree, with a couple amendments. Couldn't have anyone delving too deeply into my supposed "past" after all , so when the affidavit that I sent returned properly signed, I agreed. I have a hell of a show planned, trust me on this one, and my word choice here will certainly be appropriate. _

_I'm actually rather excited about performing at Hogwarts in my rock persona, since I will seem to be a neutral third party I have a feeling that many will try to recruit me for their own nefarious ends. If only they knew.. At the very least, the set I have planned will shock most of the teachers (I hope that Sev attends, I want to try to make him drool at least), and make most students gaze upon my form with naked lust. Normally I'm fairly well covered with a long leather duster, but I think I'll shed that after a song or two, something that I've never done. There are parts of my outfit that have been seen by no other save myself, and let me assure you, dear reader, that it is quite scandalous. Hell, once I really turn on the charm they could become my love slaves. Couple that with my song list, which I borrowed heavily from the Queen of the Damned soundtrack but threw in several crowd favourites and my two original songs, and the proper, otherworldly atmosphere of Hallowe'en will prevail. _

_Little do those humans suspect that I will not only use my Hogwarts debut as my personal amusement but I will be casting an ancient spell found in the Anubis scrolls. If I'm right about the translation, things will get real interesting. Not immediately, although several spectres will surround me for a brief moment, but the long term implications are immense. I hesitate to go into such detail for fear of jinxing myself, silly I know, but I can't take any chance. This could mean life or death for me, in a certain fashion. Of course, I won't know if it's successful for a long time, but it is a chance I am willing to take. It will in no way affect my plans to save Hogwarts, so I needn't worry about changing things much. Oh, the wonders that I have found in my new library, I could spend several lifetimes and barely scratch the surface. _

_I have learned so much from the scrolls and tablets that I have read and absorbed. Really, modern people think that they are so superiour to the ancients because they have cars, cable, digital watches, etc., when in fact it is they who are the immature know-it-all brats. It is a shame that much of this was lost to history, even if only a fragment of this data were properly absorbed it could have made life just a tad bit easier. Don't get me wrong, there's a good bit of mundane information, such as which brothel-master needs to tithe which local lord because one of his wares was deemed unsatisfactory for trade. For every bit of day-to-day records, however, there are long-lost philosophies, spell-scrolls, and historical documents that would really shake up the human and wizarding world. And to think, I got all this for a little bit of housekeeping (that big skin was getting in the way anyway) and a few hours getting Sylvain to bite the lid of the jar. There's even a few scrolls here that are so extremely rare I have only ever heard about them in legend and rumour. Ah, now I'm torn between spending all my time buried in these books or getting ready for my set. Hm, maybe I could cast one of these lovely prank spells I just found after I cast the Anubis rite, that should make things interesting to say the least. What the hell, I need a good laugh._

_Speaking of which, just to make sure Draco doesn't erroneously believe himself off the metaphorical hook, SICK SICK SICK SICK. I sincerely hope he is doing something in a large group of people when this is read. Got to keep my dear cousin on his toes, after all. Ohh, that reminds me, I think I'll head out tonight to wreak my brand of havoc upon my other, much more piggish cousin. I'll be doing Dudders a favour, methinks, for he's certainly having a rough time at school and has no even slightly valuable skills to contribute to society. After tonight, I will think of him every time I eat a piece of bacon. _

_Faked you out there, I'm not going to actually eat my cousin, although he will be transformed fully into a pig by the end of the night. I have far better taste in food than that, thank you very much. Besides, the fat content would be enough to send the strongest athlete into cardiac arrest, not to mention the lack of proper nutrition. No, I have other plans for my swinish cousin, ones that are far more appealing to my twisted, sick sense of humour. Yes, that sound you just heard was a rimshot, I couldn't resist. _

_Hm, I'd probably better get moving before the lure of my new library sucks me in like a dusty, papercut-prone siren. Off to have some family fun, Slytherin style, and then I think I'll head out to the club to test my new set. No rest for the wicked, after all. _

Wicked, indeed. I think Draco is starting to develop a nervous twitch whenever I step near this book, as he seems to be the favourite target of the moment. Personally, I think that he should be grateful that he didn't suffer the same fate as his father, who was the recipient of the Emperor's New Clothes prank. It caused quite a scandal at the ministry, he kept insisting that he was fully clothed when in actuality he was au naturel, to put it mildly. He went on for about a day as such, and then at a very important banquet he was hosting, when he got up to speak the prank wore off and he became very acutely aware of his condition. The resulting scene has been described by all present to be vastly hilarious. When I found myself thinking that I would like to acquire the pictures I know were taken, oddly enough that bloody crow dropped a parcel filled with them on my head. Not natural, that bird, but that night we did share a laugh. To think, I now have highly sensitive material on both Malfoys, since the photos were pulled before they hit circulation and my set are likely the only ones left intact. I think it must be Harry's influence, but I find myself yearning to do wicked things with them.

I really do wonder what would have happened if he had shown dressed in his planned costume. Most likely everyone would have panicked, save myself since the Dark Mark is not something that could be faked, and he would have made a fool out of the entire Order and the Aurors. That would have been interesting and oddly appropriate. As it is, I do remember that night quite well. It stands as a testament to his skill that no one suspected a thing, not even I. I generally detest such gatherings, so I left early to patrol the grounds for students breaking the rules, which I greatly enjoy, but I did witness the beginning of the performance. I never much went for that type of music before, but I did find myself oddly drawn to it. I remember, he emerged out of the shadows and stilled the crowd with one glance, an amazing feat with a room filled with teenagers.

As he started singing, a strange but entrancing melody sung in an unfamiliar yet ancient sounding language, the shadows and lights began to swirl about him in an entrancing way, occasionally taking almost recognizable shapes. I thought I recognized a dog-like creature, as well as several odd looking lizard-types and a large winged shape that swirled around and eventually settled on his shoulder. They all faded away rather quickly, and he was soon on the stage with a strange smirk on his face. Wait, one of them left after the others, it was the winged shape on his shoulder, that black shadow... It couldn't be. I think the crow knows what I suspect, it has stopped ripping my chair to shreds (I gave up on that a long time ago) to stare at me with a deadly serious gaze. Could this feathered pain in the arse be the same shape I saw flit on Harry's shoulder all that time ago?

Eh, why not, stranger things have happened, some of them the direct result of this journal. I already knew this wasn't an ordinary bird, and now my idea that it was connected to Harry in some way has been confirmed. I just gave that bird a shrug and smirk, and it has returned to desecrating my furniture. At least it's not trying to raid my liquor cabinet anymore, not since it was unofficially invited to our late night drinking sessions. When I say unofficially, I mean that it wouldn't let us alone until we poured it a drink and had it join us. It's truly amazing how persuasive and intimidating something without teeth can be, it really is.

Our exhaustive search for the hidden library has resulted in nothing but vast headaches for everyone involved. His claim would almost seem like a prank in its own right if not for the present that he arranged to be thrown at my face the other day. His taste is rather exquisite, what the package contained was none other than an extensive collection of ancient potion manuals from a wide range of civilizations. Many of these have been lost to the ages, their existence the substance of myth, and yet here they are on my desk. Already I have found several brilliant potions that could easily replace the functions of many highly complex and unstable potions, and I have only deciphered one scroll. In a show of extreme thoughtfulness, included in the bundle of scrolls and occasional tablet was an amulet that, when worn, allows the reader to understand any text before them. If only I could show my gratitude, for this is a gift that touches my heart. Well, if the bird had some connection to Harry, I guess that thanking the bird with something such as a full bottle of its favourite whiskey would be appropriate. I never thought that I would feel obliged to by alcohol for a bird, nor would most I think.

Personally I think that we should give up the search for the library. Scandalous, I know, but one thing I have learned about our resident prankster is that the location of the library will not be revealed unless he wished it, and only when he decided it would be appropriate to reveal. Continuing to search, as tempting the reward is, is nothing more than an exercise in futility. Despite the notable handicap of death, he has proven so far to be in complete control of the current situation, so we are at the mercy of a dead man. Whatever he has in store for us, I am certain of one thing; we should all consider ourselves extremely fortunate that we are not to suffer the same fate as his relatives. Part of me is rather curious about the state of his pig-cousin. Knowing his sense of humour fairly well by now, I wouldn't be surprised if he fed it to his pet basilisk, whom seems to have gone to ground, as it were.

Well, I must sit back and let things unfold as they will, there is little I can do about the situation. There is no action left to take, at least to date, but I have no doubt that the most unexpected and improbable situations one could conceive are likely on the way. It wouldn't do to underestimate his twisted genius. Speaking of which, I found the Marianne reference at last. The urge to throttle is almost overpowering, yet I dare not do so on the bird. A dilemma, this, but I have been finding that there are precious few dilemmas that can't be temporarily forgotten with enough firewhiskey. Time to sit down with a spoiled aristocrat with a nervous twitch, a former Dark Lord, and a large, malicious crow for more than a few drinks. Ah, what my life has come to. Still preferable to teaching most of my classes, however.


	21. Chapter 20

_Journal entry the twentieth_

_Last night went just as planned, and was maybe even more successful than I dreamed. Umbeknownst to the public, I managed to contact a long neglected power and, with a great deal of haggling, we managed to come to a workable deal. It will be tricky to meet all of its conditions, but if anyone had the potential to pull off this very risky scheme it would be yours truly. _

_The set went marvelously, if I do say so myself. I had the crowd eating out of my hand, teachers and students alike. Ah, if only Sev had stayed longer, I noticed him slip out, then he would have been present for a song that I selected just for him. I still performed it, and I'm sure that my lovely audience is still scratching their heads about the identity of the "dark Prince" I dedicated it to. Yes, I know all about his family background, at least from a genetic point of view. Bloodlines are understandably a hobby of mine, and I found several references to Sev in the Malfoy family library. Oh, Draco and Lucius would likely faint if they knew the number of times I snuck into Malfoy Manor completely undetected for various purposes. And if they think that is scandalous, well, the family really should check their vaults out a bit closer, for more than a few bits and bobs found their way into my pockets/loot bag. Yes, I have a loot bag. After a lengthy cartoon marathon, I decided to draw a big black dollar sign on the side. Maybe I shouldn't watch cartoons as much as I have, they are giving me inspired moments that scare even myself in retrospect. _

_I'm rather proud of myself, the outcome of the ritual from the Anubis scrolls has cleared my mind up on a topic on which I have been quite the procrastinator recently. Here I am, pouring my heart out knowing full well that it will be read by an individual of my choosing, yet I have until now failed to select the lucky recipient. Last night was definitely a night of revelations, and not only the course of this journal but my own course is now much clearer. Riskier, certainly, but with an actual chance at reward beyond saving the school. _

_On that note, good evening my dear Severus. Knowing you as well as I do, you are likely sitting in your quarters with a glass of either firewhiskey or scotch at hand, late at night with a scroll and quill at hand for immediate impressions. I know that I must have shocked you with my earlier revelations about lusting after your snarky self. Personally, I think people must be blind, deaf, and total morons not to pick up on the fact that you are one sexy beast. (Note to self: do not replace cartoons with Austin Powers, it is a far worse influence). Before you sneer and start putting yourself down, listen to me. You possess a certain grace and charisma that draws the attention of a room, and your years of potion brewing have accentuated your natural elegance. Try denying that your movements, at least above a cauldron, are nothing but perfectly smooth and graceful. Your voice, ah, that rich silky baritone is one of the most sensual things I've ever heard, even when it was raised in anger or frustration. Why else would someone you now know to be a potions master in their own right fail so miserably in potions classes, after all. It wasn't all for my cover, I actually messed up potions that I could brew in my sleep because I was distracted by your sexy, sexy voice. I know that you're perhaps a bit paranoid about your nose, thinking it too large and crooked when in fact that classical profile fits perfectly with your regal mien._

_Physical characteristics notwithstanding, the feature that I not only found sexy, but perhaps began to fall in love with was your mind. You possess that spark of brilliance and greatness that draws people like a moth to the flame. The hardest part of this whole farce was pretending to have an antagonistic relationship with you when I wanted nothing more than to spend my time with someone my equal in many ways, someone with whom I could sit down and have a meaningful, intelligent discourse rather than rambling about worthless quidditch scores. What's done is done, however, and while I am plagued by the shadow of the BWL I know that I cannot hope for a relationship with you where we weren't screaming at each other. Hell, all my research and I still have no idea which sex you prefer, but even if you were to never fancy me in that way I would still have settled for a friendship. This is perhaps my only act of cowardice, rather than work up the courage to confront you I instead pour myself into this entry that I know will not be read until after my death. I know that, given time, I could have warmed your heart in some fashion, but time is a resource that I do not have to spare, at least at the moment. _

_Star-crossed lovers indeed, I would like to dream that we are scar-crossed lovers instead. If Dumbles had never set things up in the manner he did, then I would have had a chance at a relatively normal, scar-free life, with nothing stopping me from my pursuit. Ah, a maudlin mood seems to have settled over me at the moment, yet I do not wish to stop writing. Before, I was in a very cynical and snarky mood because I believed my actions to have only one outcome. That outcome is still very near on the horizon, but things have changed in ways I never could have predicted. For the first time in my entire life that I can remember, I have hope. My hope has taken the edge off most everything save my sense of humour. Speaking of which, da da daaaaa, if you want a good laugh after reading this entry I suggest you check up on Lucius after this. Think of it as a cheer-up bouquet of flowers delivered by a sick, sick, sick (hah) twisted mind. You'll be the only one able to read the card, by the way. Everyone else that reads it will be forced to recite a random dirty limerick. There, that took me out of my maudlin state. Nothing like messing with people's heads from beyond the grave to cheer a bloke up. _

_Severus, there is a piece of information I wish to trust to you, and only you. I will entrust this with your sense of honour and dignity, so if you have any sliver of respect for me by now keep this to yourself. If things really did go as I planned, a spirit of some type, probably in the form of either a lizard, wolf, or crow, has appeared by now. I don't know what they will be like, but it is important that the spirit-creature, who will seem to be a perfectly average creature upon scrutiny, be given free reign. Let it do whatever it wants, if it it intelligent then it might be possible to reach some sort of compromise, but do not try to trap or contain it. This isn't for the spirit's sake so much as for the sake of the fool who would try such a thing. Remember, it may look like an animal, but it's probably more intelligent than half the staff. I spelled this passage so that once more you are the only one able to read it, and please do not tell anyone about this. It's probably okay if the spirit itself knows that I have told you this, but no one else. I'm bending the rules by doing this, but I feel the risk is worth the reward. The last thing I would ever want is for you to lose your temper and try something that would cause a serious amount of damage. _

_If the spirit is in fact present, soon things will really begin to get interesting. Remember, I did state earlier that many of the effects of my actions have yet to be felt. This is not what I had in mind at the time, but it still applies. Plenty of surprises on the way, after all to achieve goals as lofty as mine such things cannot be one in one fell blow. In the meantime, rest up my dear Severus, I have a feeling that you will need it in the time to come. _

I'm not sure that respect successfully describes how I feel towards him at the moment, I think that awe would come closer to the truth. I did in fact contact Lucius after reading the essay, stepping over a giggling, cursing Draco to get to the fireplace, and what I found is perhaps his crowning pranking achievement. Instead of the tall, blond aristocrat I've known for a good part of my life, there was a large plant-like creature covered with many rare species that are known mostly for their use in potions. This may not sound impressive, except that the plants were formed in ways that accentuated certain, ahem, attributes of Lucius that are usually not on display, and turned the rest of his form into a caricature of itself. To complete the tableau, he was completely rooted to the floor in his office and every time he opened his mouth various quotes from Harry's beloved cartoons would spill out. I wasn't quite prepared for the scale of the prank, nor the level of difficulty, so after a good laughing session I decided to harvest Lucius. I was low on that kind of nightshade anyway. From the timer that appeared with the transformation, it seems that he has a full day to spend as a reject from Little Shop of Horrors.

Such praise, he truly did hold me in high esteem. If I am to be honest with myself, I'm not sure how I would react if he were to approach me today. It is true that I have never had much interest in the company of women, but neither have I sought out men. It could be that the years of stress have suppressed my sex drive to the point where it is almost nonexistent, or it could just be that I have not found anyone worth my time, male or female. I would like to believe that gender would not matter if I found someone that I connected with, but I have no idea if that idea would be acted upon if the situation were to arise. It is truly ironic that the one person with whom I could have had some type of relationship, sexual or non, with had a streak of selflessness and martyrdom. I recognize that his actions did save the school in ways that we are aware and yet unaware of, but a selfish part of me that I thought long dead wishes that there was another way.

What good did that hope do him in the end, he is still dead and since I never was the social butterfly to start with my choices for company are rather limited. Right now I've got a drunk former Dark Lord, who is even more of a social pariah than I, passed out on the floor next to my equally unconscious godson. The only company who seems to be able to keep up with me is the blasted bird, who is actually some type of highly intelligent spirit that could smite us all with thoughts according to the warning. When Harry stated that things would get interesting, surely he was not referring to the bird developing a drinking problem worse than mine and somehow managing to render "Danny Boy" in caws. I find myself tempted to take the bird out for a pub crawl through muggle London, just to see the reactions. As a matter of fact, I will do just that. Wherever Harry is right now, I hope he looks down at us and feels a bit of pride that I am manifesting certain traits of his sense of humour.

I will admit that, at first, I thought of Harry as someone too far gone to be anything but cynical and snarky, but he sells himself short much as he claims I do. That man had enormous capabilities to love and trust, and it is a tribute to his strength that it wasn't completely crushed out of him by circumstances that make some circles of Hell look like the south of France. I am plagued now with thoughts of what kind of relationship we would have had. Since no leads or answers seem to be forthcoming, all that I can do is what I have been doing all along. We entrusted ourselves to Harry's mercies once before, and we shall again. Whatever ritual this drunken bird that definitely shares Harry's unique brand of humour is part of is apparently under way. Barring us finding the library and isolating the scroll, let alone translating it, there is nothing to do but wait for all to be revealed.

Enough for tonight, the bird and I are going out for a long night of drunken debauchery. Before we leave, I am going to attempt something that many would not have the stones to try. Judging from the drinking songs it loves, I believe it understands a good bit of english. Since I do not want to stain my already tarnish reputation by ordering drinks for a large crow, I will teach it to order the drinks itself. If it wants to drink, it will pass the orders to the barkeep itself. That alone should result in incredulous stares. I know for a fact that the bird knows how to curse, largely thanks to Draco and the tickle hex, so that should really get very interesting and amusing. Hm, the unconscious people on my floor are giving me Harry-influenced ideas, we should get going before the temptation proves too strong.


	22. Chapter 21

_Journal entry the twenty-first_

_Ah, the fire feels nice on these tired bones. Seems like no matter what I try I can't keep all the chill out of these rooms. I have other things to think about than warming charms that won't do much good anyway, I know my core temperature has dropped somewhat. Thanks to my Hallowe'en activities, I will be able to hold on a bit longer, hell I might even make it until the end of the year. As it is, I haven't written in this in at least a week or two, and I felt it was time for an update. I hope I can make it to the end of term, I can't help but feel that it would be a fitting time for everything to come to a crescendo. _

_I've been leaving the sanctity of my Chamber more often as of late, and not only for the club. Having established a fairly harmless relationship with Tom at the Council, I've decided that I will spend some time with him as an honoured guest. He was completely surprised when I appeared in the middle of a Death Eater meeting in my true form, with various glamours to add the appearance of health. It was even more fun to knock around those presumptuous Death Eaters who decided that it would be a good idea to attack me. I am so happy that you had more brains than that Sev, I would have hated to bounce you up and down like I did Nott, or turn you into a human Slinky like I did Goyle. Tom really needs to be around better and brighter company than those dolts, seriously. I could have hand-picked better followers by raiding a mental hospital, your lovely self being the notable exception. A rose among thorns, you are. Ah, he was so shocked when I offered my aid as a spy of the "Light", and even moreso when I told him that I had unrestricted access to all the Order and Hogwarts thanks to my power and my bloodlines. _

_Now, you may be wondering why I decided to start with an active role against the Order. My reasons are varied, but there are three core motives that I hold dear. My primary goal is to provide a balancing influence on Tom so that he's a little less of a puppet-psycho and more of the intelligent, passionate man I know him to be. My secondary and much more selfish goal is to take some of the pressure of you, my dear spy. If he has two sources, one of which is an unknown entity to the Order with powers they can't possibly dream of, then the pressure to gain information would be lessened somewhat. Less pressure, plus my influence, would mean less damage taken from Crucio, etc. It helps that Tom not only knows very little about me, but has kind feelings towards his kinsman. My third, and mostly selfish reason, is that if he has calmed down somewhat by the time my ritual is performed it would make my job easier and I'd have a higher chance of success. Ah, and since I feel in need of cheering up, let us revisit Memory lane for a few passages, and reveal the true story about Hogwarts in its infancy. _

_After we had finished building the actual castle, there was still a tremendous amount of work to be done. Protections needed to be put into place, students needed to be gathered, future teachers needed to be found and recruited, and we needed to come up with a curriculum and textbooks all before we opened our doors. Helga and I were delegated to be the talent scouts, since Helga was imminently likable, and I was a born diplomat. Rowena and Godric decided to stay behind and work on the curriculum, textbooks, and defense of the castle, since their skills naturally lent themselves to those tasks. We kept in constant contact, checking progress, using various methods, everything from the current owl post (which was our own innovation) to scrying pools and even devices similar to today's cellphones. Helga and I had a decent amount of success recruiting students and transporting them to a temporary camp, which still survives today under the name of Hogsmeade, but we did not find a single potential teacher in the lot that didn't try, unsuccessfully of course, to kill us. We simply figured that it would be best to recruit future teachers from the graduating students, and we four would be more than adequate instructors ourselves. This process took the better part of a year, but it would have been far longer if we didn't have many magical means of transportation at our disposal. _

_Upon our return, the curriculum was finished and the defenses were almost complete. Not really knowing any spells that would successfully protect such a large area and so many people, we had to create our own, which is the main reason why the original wards and protections on Hogwarts has never been breached. Yes, there have been attacks and such at Hogwarts, but that was due to the added wards of later witches and wizards creating loopholes to be exploited. If those busybodies had left well enough alone, then we wouldn't find ourselves in the situation we are in now. Really, such arrogance, it just goes to show how corrupted Hogwarts has become over the years. Hm, why not, I think I'll reveal another secret about my top-secret ritual, but only to you my dear Sev. Part of the ritual I have designed is to strip away all the layers of wards that were added after our time and restoring the old spells. You would be amazed at how things would change from this. So many wizards thought that they were our equal in power and wanted to leave their mark upon the school, they buggered everything up proper. _

_Our first class consisted of 15 students, ranging from six to twenty years of age. Twenty might seem an odd age to become a student in magic, but consider that before Hogwarts, magic-users in Britain had precious few chances to learn how to control their talents, so our older students were at the same starting point as everyone else. As an added bonus, we wouldn't have to wait for the younger students to mature before we had a viable pool for professors. The first few years were largely uneventful, no attacks or such like we have today. Gee, wonder why that was, hmmm. There was a bit of trial and error, since not a soul among us had any teaching experience, and the only one to really have a formal education was Rowena, but we worked things out and had the pleasure of watching people who would otherwise be shunned or harmed for their talents using their talents to make their lives easier, and quite often the lives of people around them. We only had a couple students in the third class begin to want to abuse their power, but after we threatened them with expulsion for potentially destroying the peaceful school we had painstakingly built they saw the light of reason. In fact, our most rebellious student later proved to be a very skilled, trustworthy, and highly popular transfiguration teacher. These were the dark ages after all, and the last thing anyone wanted above all else was to make life harder than it needed to be. It was enough of a challenge for most to find enough food to survive. With priorities like that, virtually no one wanted to lose a haven like Hogwarts and jeopardize their alliance with other magic users. _

_Hah, I may be one of the only people to wax poetic about the dark ages, what with all the disease and famine, but the vast majority of people had their heads on straight. Today, the basic necessities of life are no longer a cause for concern, which frees people up to make total gits of themselves. Back then, if a "Dark Lord" really wanted to conquer just about any country in Europe all they would have to do is offer steady supplies of untainted food, clean drinking water, basic healthcare, new clothing and shoes, some security, and basically not rape every woman that they come across. All these tasks could be accomplished by any adult witch or wizard with minimal effort. Hell, even most older students could pull it off. Now there's all this gibberish and propaganda to sway people who take too much for granted and can't think for themselves too well. Sickening, really. If only they all knew how well off they are, even the poorest among them. They've never had to literally sing for their supper. _

_Well, I think I'll step down from the pulpit for now, I don't want to get too preachy. I don't think I'll head out tonight, I'm just going to settle down with a good book or five. I've made some progress in reading through my recent acquisitions, I've devoured roughly a third. Perhaps tonight I'll start on the tablets, I'm a bit rusty on my cuneiform, and from the glimpses I've caught, well, it seems that the ancient Mesopotamian peoples had a deep abiding hatred of their fellow man and a pranking streak a mile wide. Oh, that reminds me, I really should enclose a prank in with this entry, since that seems to be the trend. Ah, eureka. Severus, be thankful that I'm quite fond of you, because I am sparing you from this group prank. See, this weekend I attended a "midnite matinee" of a lovely little cult movie where people dress up and throw popcorn at each other. Perhaps you've heard of "Rocky Horror Picture Show"? You know, I think I'll make this prank interactive, so I'm enlisting you as my ally. Gather Draco, Tom, Lucius, Neville, Luna, Minerva, and Pansy together in one room, preferably with an audience, and press the play button on the mp3 player that will appear in your lap right about...now. My advice would be to either enlist some Creevey help or get a camera yourself, but you will want to have some type of record of this. Just between us, this is a multiple use prank, so have fun!_

Merlin help me, I did it. My sides still ache from laughing, and to make things even better all the parties involved are hesitant to seek revenge on me since I hold the now infamous journal that seems to have power over people. Before I delve into my views on this entry, I feel I must disclose the events of this evening. For once I decided to start reading this entry right before dinner in the Great Hall, where all parties listed would be present (Lucius was paying a diplomatic visit). My curiousity got the best of me when he mentioned the movie that served as his inspiration, since I am quite familiar myself with such midnight showings. \

So, right in the middle of dinner after making sure that everyone on the list was present, I pressed the button on the device that I was concealing in my robes. Immediately the song "Time Warp" starts blaring, not from the player but in stereo at various places in the room. As soon as the song started, each victim was enveloped in a flash of light, and when the light faded each one was dressed up in complete costumes of various characters from the movie. Just to clarify, Neville and Luna were dressed as Brad and Janet, respectively, Draco and Pansy were Rif Raf and Magenta, Minerva was Columbia, and perhaps the most inspired bit of casting was Lucius as Rocky and Tom as none other than Frank-n-Furter. Now, this sight alone would have been enough to incapacitate most with laughter, but then they started moving, quite obviously not of their own volition. After treating the entire school to a lively version of the Time Warp, Draco and Pansy leading the song, they split into groups and went into various other songs. First, Neville and Luna did a decent version of "There's a Light". Right on their heels Minerva began tap-dancing down the center aisle, a sight to make even the most hardened wizard gasp for breath. Finally, as the crowning achievement of any of his pranks to date, Tom and Lucius made everyone's night when they pantomimed and sung "I Can Make You A Man." It is a good thing that I did enlist the help of the Creevy clan, for I was laughing far too hard to even hold a camera, a spectacle that I'm sure made several students keel over in shock. After the spell wore off and the involved parties were restored, it was quickly deduced that the journal was to blame, for such complex pranks could have only been the work of one man. Fortunately, they do not wish to cross someone who is not only the possessor of this masterpiece of a journal but a potions master with a previously dormant pranking streak.

I do remember those Death Eater meetings with the mysterious, shadow-clad ally we never learned the name of. I suppose that I shouldn't be surprised that, yet again, he defied common sense and general rules of warfare by being an active player on both sides of a war. Now, most anyone would essentially neutralize their effects on a war by playing both sides, the exceptions being spies and, apparently, Harry. His presence certainly did calm Tom down quite a bit, so much so that we often went whole meetings without a single cruciatus curse being uttered. His information always proved correct, and always corroborated my own so that I wouldn't risk being exposed on either side. I had wondered how he always knew, but now it all makes sense. Near the end Harry was always present at the Order meetings, usually as just a trophy with no voice. Who could have known that Mad-Eye's paranoia was spot-on, that there was another spy deep within the Order ranks. If he knew that the Golden Boy was also the notoriously outrageous, deprived quasi-mentor of Tom, his head would have probably exploded. I must once again applaud his acting skills, to fool a man as paranoid and highly observant as Moody is a true test of his skill, and to do it consistently under constant scrutiny is near miraculous.

Since I am currently dodging my usual assortment of drinking partners, I suppose I will just sit here by the fire, sipping my scotch while the crow reads and drinks over my shoulder. We have come to an accord now that I know something of its origin, and I am almost finding its influence and company to be enjoyable. Perhaps that is another reason that our impromptu theater troupe is slow in seeking revenge, for I do not doubt that this crow would defend my honour. Its reasons may be dubious and something along the lines of "Only I can prank and torture Severus", but it will do for now. In an ideal world, I would be sitting here with Harry across for me, sipping our drinks while we held many interesting and varied discussions. Who knows, perhaps it would have led into more, for I feel I would have fallen prey to his charms eventually, but this remains wishful thinking. I will just sit here with the bird and relax, chuckling every so often as I remember dinner. I don't take peaceful evenings such as these lightly anymore, and cherish every one as if it would be my last.


	23. Chapter 22

_Journal entry the twenty-second_

_Things are starting to look up a bit. If I hadn't put that little bit extra into my Hallowe'en preparations, then chances would be that this would have been the last entry. At my prior rate of deterioration, I would be in the final stages of my illness and my final ritual would have been performed in the next few days. Now I have a stay of execution where I can actually do some of the things I've always wanted to do. Everything is set, all I have to do until the end of term is the occasional refreshing of ingredients and the addition of a few seasonal items that I had planned to use dried but would be so much more effective fresh. Who could have known that my attending the Council would so drastically change my plans for the better, and all because Sylvain was nagging me incessantly._

_I hope you enjoyed my last prank, my dear Sev. I must say that it was one of my more inspired creations. Don't worry, though, I still have yet to perform my magnum opus. I feel a prank within me that will shatter all previous records, and I even have some idea of what it might be. If things went to plan, remember that things are not always what they seem to be. Oh, that reminds me, I went shopping in a rather esoteric store the other day and found something that I couldn't resist. Since it is still a bit too early for Yule gifts, consider it an early birthday present. When you get done reading the entire entry, please check your wardrobe. I hope you enjoy it, I enclosed a note explaining so that it won't get misused._

_I've been finding myself in a nostalgic mood recently. As I walk through the halls of our school, which have not changed as much as you might think in appearance, I find myself reliving old memories. I half expect Godric to come barreling around the corner at any moment, usually trying to escape Rowena and her immense piles of paperwork. When I venture into the greenhouses, I can't help but imagine Helga and I deep in conversation about the potential uses of many different types of plants over our usual ale and pipes. Of course, the dungeons remind me of my glory days, of what it felt like to have a body that wasn't falling apart, to be so full of life and energy that nothing seemed impossible. The forest and grounds hold many memories as well, especially of my druidic kin who set up camp in the Forest. We would take classes there regularly to further their education and reinforce the message of different-but-equal. And as much as I enjoy watching you in our Potions' class, I can't help but be flooded with memories, for by some sheer coincidence you chose the exact same room that I had for my lab. I would spend ages in that room, experimenting with various potions and spells, so it strikes very close to my heart. Even the décor is not too different, and most fixtures are unchanged. Hm, I wonder. Sev, when you get a chance I want you to look closely at the wall behind your desk. Run your fingers at roughly shoulder level and close your eyes. In the middle of the wall you should feel a spot that doesn't seem right, it's worn smooth. Tap that spot three times and stand back, if everything is really intact the door to my secret lab stores will retract. Now, over thousand year old ingredients would be useless, and under normal circumstances this would be an accurate description. However, since I laid just about every status spell I could think of on the room, it should be exactly as I left it all that time ago. I had a pretty good stash of ingredients that are either rare or extinct now, and there might even be a few experimental potions that I was working on still lying about. I know that you, of all people, would be able to appreciate this find. Share it if you like, or it could be our little secret. I know from experience that it is quite handy to have a spot to hide such things from the ever inquisitive students. _

_I know that I've been shattering the so-called facts of my previous existence, but I truly enjoyed teaching. I never favoured certain students over others, despite the, ahem, current trend. I recognize the need to give modern-day Slytherins something to be proud of, but such things in excess tend to alienate the receiving group even more. Vicious cycle, that. That is one of the greatest flaws in the current prevailing teaching technique, that the teachers help drive the wedge between students deeper at a time when they are very malleable and unsure of themselves. I can't tell you how sick I've been of "Oh, he's just a student, blah blah" being used as an excuse. Students, while young and unsure, can be extremely capable of making life-altering decisions, and should be informed about any situation that they are involved in. They are not stupid or overly fragile, they can take a bit of bad news especially if it helps save their lives, but to hide information that could be used to better a situation simply because of physical age is one of the most incredibly idiotic things I've ever heard. I am certainly an authority on the subject, even now when my life is supposedly on the line those that should be helping me are instead lying and even actively pushing me into situations that most would not be able to survive. I think the point I'm trying to make is that if everyone were to treat the students like people with brains in their heads the results would shock and amaze. Hell, we used to ask for frequent honest input from the students regarding the curriculum, and we would use the information to make things better for all. Rather than rely on a bunch of arbitrary rules like curfew, we would lead by example and the students would stay in line simply because they didn't want to disappoint us. _

_Ah, before I fill the rest of this journal with this tirade, let us change tracks. Studying my piece of the ancient Library has certainly inspired me in many ways as of late, especially with prank ideas. Nothing like the classics, I always say. Believe me, I've weeded out many of the more gruesome ones. There's a scroll that details a spell designed to make the male victim feel as if their genitals were being chewed off very slowly by a goat while no actual damage is done. Interestingly enough, it's a gender-specific spell for women in ancient Greece. And here I thought I was twisted. There's another one that looks interesting, from Egypt. If you're dedicated enough to cast a spell that takes roughly one lunar cycle to finish one can play around with another person's ka, or spirit. In other words, random out-of-body experiences galore. Once the initial spell is finished, there is no expiration date that I can fathom, so once you gain control of someone like that you keep it. Well, since there were no whoopee cushions or joybuzzers, I guess the ancients had to amuse themselves by playing around with genitals and souls. _

_I think I'll wrap up this entry for now. I know what you might be thinking, shame on me for finishing this without a prank embedded within. Well, I would like to consider myself anything but predictable, so the masses will be spared this round. Tell them to enjoy the reprieve, for they never know when I might strike again. And I will strike again, never fear. Well, at least you shouldn't fear, my dear Sev. Everyone else should panic._

Ominous words to end on, especially when he had just finished detailing two rather nasty pranks. Odd that I should find myself receiving preferential treatment from a dead man, but stranger has happened. For example, before the journal was opened I was feared by many of the students for my temper, while the other faculty were immune to my intimidation and snarky habits. Now I find myself as perhaps the favourite professor amongst the students, and my colleagues are terrified by my sense of humour. Ah, and they are likewise terrified by the newfound friendship of sorts that I have formed with the bloody bird, which has a streak of mischief that could only be rivaled by Harry himself. It's not like I have any control over it, so their fears remain unfounded in that aspect. It is rather...odd, to stride down the hallway and have students obey out of respect and not fear. I can understand his viewpoint regarding the recent past habits of professors. Since his swan-song, such things are slowly approaching what they once were, long ago. The professors are much more in tune with the students, listening despite their old instincts, but there is still a long way to go.

Usually I contribute my part of this document almost immediately after reading, but I made an exception in this case. After I set down the journal, the first thing I did was check my wardrobe, and what I found there left me speechless for a few moments. Hanging there was perhaps the most luxuriously styled and tasteful dress robe I have ever seen. Of course the prevailing theme was black, of course, and from a distance it would look just like any of my other black robes. Closer examination reveals an incredibly intricate celtic knot design woven into the fabric in silk that reflects enough light to be seen. The pattern completely covers the robe, save for one spot in the middle of the back where two serpents are rendered in velvet entwined around a sword. And if the robe wasn't already suited for my tastes, I could tell that there were many protection spells woven into the fabric, turning a stylish article of clothing into a formidable piece of armor. Several warming and cooling charms have been thrown in, as well as the same spells I cast on myself to protect from potion splatter. It may sound strange, but this gift has touched me more than any gift I have received to date. I had to resist the urge to write a thank you note, and a pang of regret resonated through me when I remembered why. Examining it further, I found a series of hidden pockets perfect for concealing vials and a special wand holster built in. Finding a note in the pocket, I read it only to find out that not only was this gift tasteful and functional, but it was also a portkey attuned to my quarters and a password-activated modified invisibility cloak. Where most invisibility cloaks only conceal the parts that they cover, the robes will completely shield the wearer even if they are partially exposed. Now I know that he really did love me, the care he took with this gift is incredibly humbling.

Still dazed from Harry's lovely gift, I decided to test his other claim, so I headed towards my potions classroom. It took a bit of searching, but I had to contain my exclamation of surprise when my fingers ran over a smooth spot. I tapped the spot three times as per his instructions, and at first nothing happened. Just when I had turned around to leave, I heard a grinding from behind me, and when I turned around there was a staircase leading down directly behind my desk. Of course, curiosity took over and I ventured into the stairwell, where according to his account only one other person had ventured. After about one flight of stairs, I encountered a strange looking door. Knowing his past and present paranoia about security, I scanned the door exhaustively and I was greatly surprised when I found no protective or security spells. This alone proves to me that Salazar was the only person to ever even know about this place, otherwise he would never have left such a valuable room exposed. Throwing some amount of caution to the wind, I opened the door and step foot into the dark room. Considering that the room I was standing in had remained unattended for over a thousand years, and the organic nature of its components, I was prepared for any amount of foul or strange smells. So needless to say I was quite surprised when I was met with a pleasant herbal smell. Looking around the room, my steadily increasing respect for Harry rose several notches, for the status spells were still intact and everything in the room was as if he had just left. I took a quick inventory for the moment, planning to come back the next day and take a more complete stock, and surprisingly his storeroom was laid out in a similar style to mine. Most of the ingredients I was already in possession of, although I am curious to see if the properties of the older plants match their descendants, but the rare ingredients I noticed would be enough to make me a rich man if I was completely destitute. Of course there were a wide range of serpent-related ingredients, including an entire keg of undiluted basilisk venom. Many of the more exotic ingredients, such as the satyr fur and chimera horn, are impossible to get today due to various laws and the scarcity of those creatures. I think I will continue his habit and keep this storeroom a secret. I owe him that much at least.

Recently the bird has taken to following me everywhere, almost as if it was protective of me, but I know that the real reason for its attention is the fact that it can scare the living daylights out of people whom are already nervous in my presence with little effort. That bird is sadistic, twisted, and an alcoholic, but its antics do bring a smile to my face every so often. Quite often I find myself forgetting that it is in my presence until it finds the bottle of cheap firewhiskey I bought for it and makes a feathered fool out of itself. I know that it only looks like a bird, that it's some type of powerful spirit, but it is hard not to laugh when a drunken bird crashes a party in the dorms and starts cawing along with Ricky Martin songs. The cawing would be bad enough, but it actually tries to dance, and the avian form is not one that lends itself to dancing naturally. The resulting scene can only be described as surreal and hilarious.

I think I've just about had it for tonight. Tomorrow will be even busier than usual, but I admit to anticipating the looks on the students and professors when I show up at breakfast wearing my brand new robes. I think that recent events are giving Draco and Minerva permanent nervous tics, and this uncharacteristic behaviour should be enough to reinforce that trend. Through this journal, Harry has been somewhat of a bad influence on me, but I can't remember the last time I enjoyed myself so thoroughly. And so I now go to gather a drunken bird-spirit and take myself to bed, looking forward to the morrow.


	24. Chapter 23

_Journal entry the twenty-third_

_There's nothing like living on borrowed time, let me tell you. Knowing that I would have been a dead man walking just makes everything taste, feel, and look better. My appetite's returned somewhat, just in time for the Yule season so I can fend off the usual suspicion I face by eating an adequate amount of food. The beautiful thing about being more or less estranged from your former friends and 'loved ones' on the holidays is the time saved with virtually no shopping. Well, no shopping for them at least. My list this year is pleasingly short, as I'm a firm believer in quality over quantity, and to date the only people to gain the honour are Hagrid, the Weasley twins, Tommy boy, Sylvain, Dobby, and of course my dear Sevvie. Everyone else can choke on Yule log for all I care. I found a spell that will come in handy methinks, when my usual pile of gifts from my adoring public (hah) and dear friends (double hah) the owls will be directed to several orphanages, wizarding and muggle alike, of course with the cards and identifying features being eliminated first. I have no use for such trivial trinkets, and they could make some kid's yule. The only ones I will look at first are the ones from Remus, which I will later donate after sorting, and the infamous Weasley jumper, if it is decreed that I am worthy of it this year considering that I have been ignoring her son entirely. That would come in handy, I find that wool burns hotter for just a brief moment, so it would give me that added burst of warmth to take the chill off. _

_I know it may not seem like I would be the type to celebrate such a joyous holiday, but in fact I rather enjoy Yule and the Solstice immensely. Wintertime can be so dreary and depressing, to have a reason to celebrate while still in its grasp is quite a good idea. As Harry, I never really had a true holiday where I had people who cared to celebrate with, but in my days as Salazar we had some outrageous holiday parties. We would halt all classes for a week around the Solstice and Yule holidays and the students would group together to decorate the castle inside and out. Everyone would make their own gifts, and there would be two rounds of gift-giving per holiday, one in the style of Secret Santa and a private gift exchange between good friends or lovers. The professors would join in with the students and would usually take care of the feasts and games. After all, the vast majority of students and professors had either no families to return to or they were hated by them for their magic, so all we had were each other. After the main celebrations, we four would often gather in one of our rooms, get completely pissed, and just generally have a good time laughing and chatting. Ah, the good old days. Today, the only chance I would have at being able to relive some small part of those happy memories would be if I finally got up off my arse to seduce you, my dear Sev, so that we could spend the holidays curled up around each other by the fire, chatting about potions, students, and such as we toss back some whisky. Instead, I will spend the holidays down here, probably buried in a book. That's not such a bad holiday, in fact it would be one of the better ones in Harry's life, but I can't help dreaming. Who knows, maybe I'll still have a shot someday. After all, since when have the rules ever applied to me, and since when has everything always gone to plan. At least I can dream, and maybe I might get this Yule wish. Everything else I've ever wished for has been denied, so maybe I'm due. _

_Hm, a wicked idea just planted itself into my head. I wonder if dear ole Dumbles has managed to find any entertainment for the Yule Ball. I would bet against it, after all the school has gained something of a reputation as being a risky gig. Since I was quite a smash at the Hallowe'en festivities, he would probably leap at the chance of having me as a repeat performer. It would be interesting, I could use the extra energy and I would have a chance to anonymously humiliate anyone of my choosing. Yes, I think I'll pursue that course of action, that should liven up the holidays somewhat. That, plus I would have carte blanche to crash the usual illegal student rave after the ball, since most seem to damn near worship me._

_That reminds me, in addition to the gift I'm planning to get you, which will be the anonymous gift by the way, I'll give you something else that I know you will appreciate: a bit of insider knowledge. By the time you read this I am sure that only a small token search force would be out searching for Dumbles. I will tell you that, even if I botched things up royal, he's not coming back. I wouldn't say that he is dead, per se, but I will bet that he would certainly wish to be such. What can I say, he finally came in handy for something other than screwing around in the lives of others. I give you this because I know how valuable knowledge is to you, after all I share the same appreciation. All the knowledge I have attained over the years will be used as power to do my bidding, after all. I know that there are those who look for him in order to bring him to justice for all his wrongs. They can search to the ends of the earth, but trust me he has been delivered supreme justice, no matter what happens to me, and he will suffer for longer than mortal memory will be able to remember. Ah, that's a warm and happy feeling, I think I could even smile up at the old coot knowing that he will suffer more than even I can comprehend for his trespasses. I wonder... hm, I just might go shopping for the old coot after all, I saw a brilliant prank item the other day. Why someone would invest a large amount of magic into a pair of plain-looking argyle socks is beyond me, but they are essentially remote control socks. Once put on, they can't be removed except by the person who has the controls, and the controller can make the socks warm up unbearably, cool down to the point of frostbite, make it feel like there are glass shards in the sock itself, and of course, there's my favourite setting that had to have been inspired by Michael Flatley. With just a press of the bright red button, the victim's feet start step-dancing at whatever pace the controller wants. This will be an anonymous gift, with no return address, but I will enclose a letter singing his praises. His ego will not allow him to refuse the socks, and I can disguise the spells on it well enough that they pass a basic magical scan. Even though he will pay later, I want a bit of instant gratification, and I could probably give everyone else a good laugh at his expense. Ah, 'tis the season..._

_Well, if I'm going to head out shopping before my procrastinating nature kicks in, I'd better start getting ready. Sev, I hope you enjoy your gift, it will pain me to give it to you without revealing it's origins, but I'd rather have you enjoy the gift rather than reject it out of hand just because it was a gift from the living image of James Potter. Enjoy in good health, and as I sit here and toast those I have known, your name will assuredly come up, given the same rank as Rowena, Godric, and Helga. Cheers, Sev._

I did always wonder who would send me an anonymous gift that showed such skill and taste. After all, it's not every holiday that someone sends you a set of pure gold cauldrons in 12 different sizes, not gold-plated like so many are but absolutely pure gold. I live fairly comfortably with my wage and estate, but I had never dreamed that I would own such a luxurious set. One, perhaps, or maybe two, but not a full bloody set that had been engraved with my initials on the outside on each piece. Now, my suspicious nature urged me to not accept any gift from an unfamiliar or unverified source, but the potions master in me drowned that out, not willing to let such a wonderfully thoughtful and useful gift escape my grasp. Needless to say, the students never come near them, and they are currently stored in Salazar's secret lab, which with this revelation is quite appropriate. If I remember properly, his gift to Hagrid was a permanent pass to the dragon sanctuary in Romania with the added benefit of receiving instruction from some of the handlers. When he opened that he started blubbering about someone named "Norbert", and I decided to leave him alone for a spell after that. I can't even imagine what he gave the Weasley twins, but I know that their sales shot up dramatically after they released a brand new series of pranks, so the connection becomes evident.

Of course I have no clue what he gave Sylvain and Dobby, since we have yet to meet the basilisk and Dobby left the castle shortly after Harry's demise, but I do remember what he gave Tom. After all, not too many Dark Lords wake up to find a large green and silver box on their bed. It confounded him to the point where he didn't even open it, rather he summoned the Death Eaters and placed it for our additional inspection, grilling us as to whom was the sender. He found out that we had no bloody clue, so after performing many detector spells on the box he finally decided to open it. As soon as he undid the wrapping and lifted up the lid, a bright blinding flash of green light filled the room, knocking everyone out. I have no clue how long we lied there, but when we got up the vast majority of Death Eaters present passed out once more after seeing their Dark Lord in his new form. It was a bit of a shock to see not Lord Voldemort, the strange snake-man, but Tom Riddle looking as human as he does now. He didn't just look more human, however, a lot of his human traits and emotions began to surface once more, so that after a few trying and confusing days he emerged from the experience as the kind, intelligent man we know today. Inspecting the box further, a note was discovered claiming that all the spell did was erase the physical damage and neutralize the spell that held back Tom's humanity to warp him into a monster. It stressed that it was not a miracle of any sorts, just a clever spell crafted by someone who despised the war and wanted it to end in some way.

That was the turning point in the war for the Death Eaters. We found ourselves not slaves to a madman's will but friends and allies of a man who has more integrity and sense than just about any. Attacks on muggles and muggleborns stopped immediately, and our focus was shifted instead on removing Dumbledore, for that is the purpose for which Tom believed he had been restored. After all, he was supposed to be the only wizard equal to Dumbledore, and therefore was the only one who could take him out. I can't help but feel that someone should have suspected that Harry was laying just a little too low, staying out of the spotlight entirely as he was either forgotten or reviled by his public. Suddenly the war became between Tom and Dumbledore, with Harry being forgotten completely. I believe that worked to his advantage, but even now I struggle to comprehend what he went through, essentially taking the war into his hands exclusively and ending it in such a way that there were no real winners or losers, just manipulators and the manipulated.

As I read this I raised my glass to Harry and returned the toast, as silly as it may seem it felt somehow right. As soon as I set the glass down, however, the bird decided that it was an offering to it and not Harry and proceeded to drink it down. If I didn't know it was a spirit-bird, I would think that such a relatively small avian body would not be able to put down half a bottle of whiskey in one sitting and not die of alcohol poisoning. I still wonder as to its origins, but for now I have no choice but to place my faith in Harry's skills and gift for planning ahead. Still, I am starting to get some funny looks at the store when I buy a new bottle or two of firewhiskey every few days, which of course I stop with my patented glare. I'm tempted to take the bird with me next time, just to witness the priceless looks on their faces as I allow it to pick out its own bottle. I'm not sure if I should admit this, but I'm starting to grow fond of the bloody nuisance. It loves to ride on my shoulder as I stride, robes billowing, firmly down the hall, and when it attends classes it helps cow the students into actually paying attention so that I don't have to escort anyone to the infirmary when they make a careless mistake. I find myself laughing when it starts pranking the students with a Weasley twin-style fervor, and I swear that bird pays attention when I'm immersed in potion research. It's clear that there is intelligence in those black, beady eyes, but unfortunately for the wizarding public that intelligent stare is connected to a twisted little brain that loves to flaunt his superiority in hilarious ways.

I think this is about enough for tonight, for I can't get his longing wish out of my head. Perhaps, if I had been able to spend some time with him as he is in this journal, I would be attracted to him in the way that he is towards me, or perhaps I would have only become a good friend of his. I can't help but feel that I, no, we have been cheated. All I know is that I would have liked to have him around on these evenings, rather than his journal. I toast him again, wherever he might be, I hope he knows that there is one person who misses not the boy-who-lived, but Harry Potter née Salazar Slytherin, the brilliant, noble man who gave so much in return for virtually nothing.


	25. Chapter 24

_Journal entry the twenty-fourth_

_I need to get my wicked ideas more often, the gig was brilliant. Not only did I bring down the house once more, but I got to hideously embarrass good ole Dumbles since he had already put on the prank socks, or as I refer to them in my head the Socks of Dooooom. Not simply Doom, notice, but Dooooom. The extra letters just add more oomph, I think. So, when I launched into my cover of the Vandal's tribute to Riverdancing I had myself a neat little background dancer built in. The best part was that he had to go along with it since I appeared to be completely surprised. That alone would have made my night, but then I did indeed crash the after-hours 5th year + student party in, of all places, the Slytherin dorms. I was impressed that there were students from every house present, even if I did feel a wave of nostalgia. Good for my little snakes, they must have learned what happened to Tom via their parents and are abiding by his new wishes. They managed to throw one hell of a party as well, where the liquor flowed like water and clothes quickly became optional. I could barely hold in my laughter when Hermione of all people (who I found out had not been invited and was kicked out after a quick memory charm) got up on a table and started doing a routine that would have been at home in the Moulin Rouge. That was classic, if I do say so myself, and it's a shame that she won't be able to remember just so she could damn near die of embarrassment in the morning. Needless to say, I was the most popular and honoured guest and had a flock of adoring fans begging me for my autograph. Well, almost all my fans wanted my autograph, some wanted to have my future children and one simply wanted my pants as a souvenir. _

_Before my gig, however, I popped over to see how my gift to Tom was going over, and I was quite pleased with the results. Now Tom can begin to put Lord Voldemort behind him and move forward. I'm sure he'll make the right choices, and now I can pass on more family lore and secrets without worrying about the information being twisted. Seeing him whole in body, and soon in spirit, the resemblance between us is uncanny, and we both closely resemble my old body as Salazar. Oddly enough, I resemble my old self a bit more than Tom, but if you place us side by side even a blind beggar would be able to tell that we are closely related. That is why the disguise spells I use are ancient enough in origin that no one knows how to counter them, it would be dangerous for that bit of information to be revealed with a simple cancellation spell. Well, that plus I like being a tricky bastard sometimes, it's fun to watch the peons scratch various parts of their anatomy trying to figure it out. Wait, what am I saying sometimes, I would be proud to say that I am a tricky bastard more times than not. _

_Oh, I needed that outing more than I thought. It's one thing to perform for more or less total strangers but it's a wholly different experience performing in the one place in the world I would call my home, with an audience that under normal circumstances would be my peers. As hellish as my life has been to this point, I do recognize that if I had not been awakened somehow then all these students and professors would be condemned to relive the mistakes of those that came after us four. I care for this place, really my only home, far too much to sulk or bemoan my past selfishly. _

_Ah, enough of these sober thoughts, it's the holidays after all, and I've got a good head start on celebrating. Later I'm gathering with a few other druids and, hopefully, Tom and a few choice followers for a Solstice rite. It won't be anything extraordinary, just a few basic rituals and such, but it will probably be Tom's first outing in his new form and I want everything to go just right. Ah, I can't wait to see who he brings with him, it should be a very interesting evening. Sylvain is even going to make an appearance, albeit in passing, just to freak them out a bit. It's one thing to watch your master talk to a snake that's on the big side but a wholly different thing to have a fully-grown basilisk that could probably swallow two or three of them whole simultaneously pass by on a casual forest outing. I think I'm somewhat of a bad influence on him, recently he's been randomly harassing anyone who looks at me cross-eyed in Hedwig-form and pulling pranks that I swear even put a smile on your face Sev, even if you did cover it up quickly. I think he's even beginning to prefer owl-form over his own natural one, I've caught him muttering something about missing his talons. _

_I should wrap this up for the night, I have yet to finalize the spell that will send my gifts off to their respective owners anonymously, and then of course I have to gather my things to meet Tom and the others. Ah, I truly am one of the world's foremost procrastinators, I have to force myself to get things set up in time, because if I had my way I would always laze about until the last minute and then become a flurry of activity. It's kind of fun to race against the clock sometimes. Oh, there's one last bit of information I will impart to you my dear Sev. I have this quite lovely prank planned for tomorrow's feast, which no one will be able to trace. I'm sure you know what I refer to, and I know that they will likely launch a futile investigation to find the culprit. Ah, it will be hard to resist standing up for a bow when it all goes down, but I must resist that temptation. Don't want anyone to look at me too closely for any reason, after all. I'm more than willing to let the spotlight focus on the conflict between Dumbles and the newly improved Tom, they can distract each other while I fix things. If anything it will make my life easier to have them otherwise occupied. Let them watch one hand while the other pulls the rabbit straight out their asses, suits me. Can't say the public has ever done anything even remotely positive for me, after all. Hah, see what I was referring to when I claimed to be the king of the procrastinators, I was only going to write that one sentence and look what it's turned into. Well, I'm off to see the wizard... and I can't believe I just said that. I think my sense of humour needs a fine tuning if I actually found that funny._

I always did wonder what prompted Albus to get up on stage and do that ridiculous dancing, and I must say it did fit that rather surreal and slightly vulgar song. I think that was perhaps the first Yule Ball that I actually enjoyed since my first year as a student. Unlike Hallowe'en, I decided to forgo my usual patrol once I learned about his encore performance. I remember the students raving about how talented and dynamic he was, so now I am glad that I decided to satisfy my curiousity. He sang an encore of the song I missed at his previous gig, the one that he dedicated to his "Dark Prince", and even though I was unaware then of the target of the song it was a rather moving song with an element of tragedy to it. I think that I will put that memory in my pensieve so that I can re-watch it from my new perspective, of course making sure I have a bird-proofed bottle of firewhiskey set aside first.

I wondered for a moment whether Harry truly realized how grand and immediate of an impact Tom's sudden change really had, but I should have realized that nothing would escape his notice, especially regarding his little snakes. As soon as Tom had recovered from the sudden change, he immediately summoned every last death eater to inform them as to the change of tactics. A few individuals did not accept the new terms, and in turn they were memory-charmed and set on their way. The Death Eaters with children and I were kept after the first meeting, and Tom informed them to pass on this change to their children so that they can conform to the new regime. It is nice to know that I don't have to worry so much about my charges turning against their fellow students, I didn't realize how large a burden that was until it was largely lifted. The change in their behaviour occurred almost immediately, and it continues to this very day despite the lack of a pressing war. The tarnish that obscured the Slytherin name is being removed bit by bit every day, and I remain certain that our House will regain its former well-deserved glory. I am not enough of a fool to think that this will happen immediately, it will take time to get over prejudices so ingrained in the populace, but the foundation has been laid and is growing steadily.

I remember that Solstice rite, indeed it is rather hard to forget. Tom decided to take along myself, Lucius, and Draco to the gathering, not so much for security but for the intelligent, non-groveling company. When we arrived at the clearing in the Forbidden Forest, four other cloaked figures were present and throwing in various satchels and items into the large bonfire already started, releasing many heady fragrances. Finally, the mysterious figure that had attended our Death Eater meetings appeared seemingly from the shadows cast by the bonfire, and with his arrival the other three ceased what they were doing to bow towards him. Not wanting to stand out, we bowed as well, and he inclined his head towards us before asking that we form a circle around the bonfire, arranging ourselves in three groups. Lucius and Draco were placed in a group with one of the druids, the remaining three druids grouped together, so the third group consisted of myself, Tom, and the being I now know to be Harry. We were instructed to bring several packets of herbs and fairly simple potions, and the rest of the night was spent performing various chants, throwing things into the bonfire, and staring at the shadow-shapes that sprung to life only to dance around the fire in a primitive way. I will confess that I was taken aback when a basilisk larger than any of us could comprehend passed within a few feet of our fire, the light glinting off his scales in rainbow hues. Even Tom, who had encountered basilisks before, indeed he had encountered this specific basilisk in his youth, faltered and stared. The only one unfazed was Harry himself, who as I recall smiled and hissed a greeting.

I think I can sympathize with him and a prank-prone bird, despite the different species and colour. As I spend more time in its company, I have learned to appreciate its intelligence and uncanny senses of irony and timing, as alien as its motives may be. Recently it has taken to terrorizing both Malfoys, and I would swear that the bird knows exactly which buttons to push and what weaknesses to exploit in both men. I doubt that the Weasley twins themselves could keep up with its antics. It is my opinion, however, that the Malfoys are simply a substitution for the bird's original targets, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, who have been sent to St. Mungo's in a vain attempt to break the curses laid upon them by Harry. Personally I think that they deserve every bit of their punishment considering the level of their betrayal. At least with their absence we are being treated to some absolutely outrageous comedic situations. Draco is definitely developing a nervous twitch, while Lucius has begun to use disguise spells when going out in public on non-official business. Not that it stops the bird from picking him out in a crowd, of course. If anything I think that it likes the challenge, and such things spur it on. I know that I have stated it before, but I am grateful for the bird's goodwill. Of course, I could tell Lucius and Draco that all they had to do would be buy the bird some decent whiskey as a goodwill gesture, but I confess that I have laughed more in recent weeks than I have perhaps in all my life. I think I'll let this continue on a bit longer, indeed lessons in humility could only help the Malfoys further down the road. We wouldn't our Minister of Magic getting a swelled head now, after all, so in a way letting the bird have its fun doubles as a public service.

As I reflect for a moment, I can't help but feel the same nagging suspicion that I felt when I first thought that Harry was Salazar, only this time it focuses on the winged menace currently spinning in circles on my desk. I know that it is a spirit of some sort, and that it is a connected somehow to Harry's last ritual, but there are several threads that are trying to connect themselves regarding it that I don't think I should ignore. Perhaps I just need to relax and ponder the matter some more. No matter what I deduce, however, I will continue to maintain this odd yet strangely beneficial relationship we seem to have formed. In the meantime, I will just relax sitting in front of the fire, a glass of whiskey in one hand and one of the potions journals that Harry gave me in the other, with a dizzy drunken bird trying to fight the strange bird he sees in the mirror. A strange status quo, but this is where I find myself, and there is a certain peace I feel despite the constant pang of loss I feel now when I think about the young man who made this moment possible.


	26. Chapter 25

_Journal entry the twenty-fifth_

_The New Year's is upon us, the last one I will see in this life. Couples will gather and kiss at the stroke of midnight, many drunken fools will give the reporters plenty of material, and things seem to begin anew. While these things do not necessarily apply to me, even though I do intend to sneak a kiss later, I do look forward to the holiday simply because all the festivities will give me the perfect cover to take a very important day trip. I found a scroll that was also a port-key in my newfound collection, and I think it would be wise to start out the new year by paying respects to my current patron. Wouldn't want to piss off a being that in many ways holds my life in his hands, now, would we. Granted, I hate port-keys with a passion, but just this once I will adjust. Actually, now that I read these words it occurs to me that I should perhaps make it a bit longer than a day trip, and I have the perfect solution to cover my disappearance. Not that I really care, but my absence at this time would raise far too many questions. Since Sylvain has been doing such a wonderful job as Hedwig and other non-serpent forms, I think he's due for a promotion. For a couple days, after the stealthy kiss I will get from you of course, my dear Sev, the role of Harry Potter will be played by a large, temperamental, slightly manic basilisk. He knows me well enough to copy most of my mannerisms, and any deviations will just be written off by the clueless humans. He won't be happy that he won't be able to accompany me on this trip, but we'll both get off on how such a deadly and feared creature will be able to mingle in public unnoticed. Who knows, he might make a better Harry Potter than I ever would, and if he's really good I just might ask him to take over a few more appearances. For a basilisk proud of his heritage, he really likes to explore other shapes. _

_Reading back, it seems that I have been somewhat negligent of my history as of late. Granted I've pretty much covered Harry's, but I stopped short in my recall of my time as Salazar. I think that I should pick it up, just for balance. I have covered the founding of the school, and the first few years, so now I think I shall cover the rest of the tragic tale._

_After years of wandering, searching, and intense labour, Hogwarts was blossoming. Fewer and fewer hedge wizards were trying to breach our walls, and we finally managed to build a solid student and teaching body. We were living legends, the four wizards (I prefer to call both males and females wizards, the word witch has far too many negative connotations to it, and is inaccurate anyway) who overcame a world not ready for us to give others a shining beacon of hope. Like all public heroes, we did have a few who differed and preferred to view us in unflattering lights. The more I think about it, it becomes more and more likely that the slanderous histories given to us were a result of one of these factions and their propaganda. The vast majority of wizards were firmly on our side, being composed almost entirely of Hogwarts students past and present, so our opponents were those crotchety old wizards who wished to terrorize the populace and torture apprentices like an overgrown bully. Strictly speaking, those wizards were no match for us power-wise, but one did manage to figure out our one key weakness: our attachment to our students. We stayed loyal to each other in the end, keep this fact in mind, and when we found out about the campaigns against the school we readied ourselves for the onslaught, pouring even more energy into the defenses of the school and asking our allies in the Forest to patrol, not for our sakes but the students. _

_I remember, it was a crisp fall morning roughly twelve years after the founding of the school. Before we started our usual cycle of breakfast and classes, Godric was on his regular morning patrol when he raised the cry. Against all odds, one old wizard had decided to turn against his own kind, reporting our location and natures to the local lord, who was a particularly vicious example of his kind. The wizard was riding at the head of a large army, each soldier armed to the teeth and determined to exterminate as many of us as they could. I know what you're thinking, a muggle army is no match to even one battle-trained wizard, but the old wizard was very crafty and shielded them with a very discreet spell that has been lost to common memory. Every spell that was cast at a shielded individual was sent back to the caster without fail, usually with fatal effects. Rowena managed to figure it out in time before we rushed out to hex them to pieces, I shudder to think what would have happened if she hadn't stopped us. Realizing that magic was not a tool we could use against them, we four sealed up all the students and teachers within the school, only to be released when we either cast the counter spell or all died. We went into battle knowing that loss was not an option for us, that no matter what happened to us that our dream must stay alive, for it was bigger than any of us by now. _

_This is perhaps my most painful entry to date, but I have to complete this. Otherwise, the truth will never be known. We each were formidable fighters in our way, Godric's strength was legendary, Rowena was a strategist without peer, Helga excelled at defensive maneuvers, although she could fall under a berserker rage to become the scariest of us all, and I had my speed and inhuman heritage, which made me damn near impossible to kill. Before we faced the army, we all stood around and clasped hands, swearing that no matter what, Hogwarts must stand, and as long as Hogwarts stood the best parts of us lived on as well. I think that we sensed a change in the air that fateful morning, and that was the last quiet moment we had together. We readied our various weapons and stood, an unyielding line that none would pass. _

_That victory was a bitter one indeed, and we came perilously close to losing it all. Rowena was the first to fall, cut down by the lord's sword even as she buried her dagger in his back, taking him with her. A strategist to the end, she knew that to remove the leader would throw the army into chaos. I knew the second that she died, she was dead before she even hit the ground. Ironically, I was the next casualty, as I was wiping out one cache of soldiers I was struck with a rather nasty version of the cruciatus from the traitorous wizard. This didn't kill me, but it did incapacitate me while some damage was inflicted. My blood being spilled might have turned the tide of battle once more, for many of our non-human allies that lived in the forest came out to aid us. This helped, but as I was struggling to stand I saw Helga fall, split in half by a broadsword as she tried to come to my aid. Ever the mother hen, as she died a smile fixed itself on her face, and I crawled close enough to hear her last words. I will not write them in this journal, some things must remain mine. Those words, and this school, are all I have left of her. _

_Ultimately, it came down to Godric and myself, back to back, surrounded by the enemy. A more fearsome and skilled fighter may never have existed, in battle Godric was a force to be reckoned with, even without magic. Despite his skill, he too fell , taking a good chunk of the remaining enemy with him, but his death was not a quick one. He was still alive, bleeding out from a gut wound, as they converged on me. I looked down at his eyes, which weren't pleading to live or showing his pain, but gazing into my own with love, trust, and acceptance. Never before and never since have I been graced with that look, and at that moment I felt something within me snap. In moments, my friends had been slaughtered. One wizard who betrayed his own kind and a group of ignorant, intolerant humans managed to take down three of the kindest, gentlest, noblest souls I have ever met. This was inexcusable. It was as if Godric gave me permission in those final moments, and I cut loose. The shields around the soldiers were designed to reflect curses and hexes, but there was one force that couldn't be completely blocked, even though some part of it would be sent back to me: the Stare. That was the first time I had ever used it on humans, and to date it was the last. I lifted up my inner eyelids, revealing my true killing-curse green eyes, and Stared down every last one of those despicable humans. The shields did work to some degree, but the old wizard never anticipated that aspect of my heritage. With each human I killed with the Stare, some of the force was redirected to me, literally killing me slowly. I used a good part of my magic reserves and creature heritage just to remain standing long enough to kill them all. _

_Once the ground was littered with their bodies, I released the wards protecting the students and they came pouring out of the school, only to stop suddenly when they saw three founders laying dead on the ground, and the last standing, barely hanging onto life. One teacher stepped forth to brace me, and I knew that he was the one destined to take over in our stead. I don't know what it was about him, but I trusted my instincts and from what few records I managed to find, the choice was a wise one. I held onto life long enough to see the bodies of my friends carried into the school, and when I was escorted in I took a long look at their still forms, and with the entire body of Hogwarts as my witness I announced that the time of the Founders was over, but our legacy will stand as long as there are wizards who believe in the ideals we lived, fought, and died for. After announcing the next Headmaster, I fell to the ground, my strength rapidly leaving me. Before I died, I cast two last spells, the first being the spell to make the castle unfindable. After crawling over to lie next to my friends, I cast my final spell as Salazar. With my final breath, I wordlessly channeled all the love I felt towards my friends, the school, and the students, and imbued the school with it. In short, I'm responsible for the living, changeable aspects of Hogwarts, I literally breathed life into it and gave it all the love I could summon. My last memory was a terrible wailing coming from the students and teachers, mourning the end of our era._

_There we have it Severus. I wrote another publishable version detailing the true tale of the Founders, which should be enclosed with the journal, and I wish that you will see fit to bring them to the wizarding populace. Looking at the wizards of today, it seems as if our sacrifices were for naught. Let the truth be seen, regardless of how unpalatable or shocking the facts may be. Do not shed any tears for us, Sev. We each made our choice, and went in knowing what the likely outcome would be. We gave our lives for something bigger than ourselves, which is a nobler cause than most. Such a mentality doesn't seem to exist today at all, everyone is far too selfish and self-absorbed. Hell, the vast majority of Hogwarts' professors of the past few hundred years would look to their own welfare before their charges. How do I know this, you may wonder? Well, don't forget I was the one to give the castle a life of its own, and it has watched countless generations. Ironic that I find myself in a similar situation today. Even if I were not dying anyway, I would still go through with my plans. That vow we made to each other a thousand years ago is no less potent today, and I never break my word when I sincerely give it. _

_On a lighter note, I know that this entry is something of a downer, and I hate to envision such a sad countenance on you, so I have a little surprise. When you finish reading this, a map will appear along with a codex. I'm sending you on something of a treasure hunt, and trust me when I say you will want the treasure enclosed. I'm sure the puzzles will be no match for your intellect, but I must stay in proper form. Well, off with you Sev, and try to have fun with it?_

_P.S. Speaking of having fun, let me close this with... sick sick sick sick sick. Sick sick. Sick. I don't think I'll get tired of that._

I did always wonder who the mysterious man was that snuck up and kissed me soundly that New Year's eve. I tried to follow him to get an explanation, and now I know that my chase was in vain, for he's far better at elusive action than I am at chasing.

Merlin, I don't even know where to begin. I can't help but wonder what the school would have been like if they had lived to see it mature. That was not a proper ending, cut down by some feudal twits. They should have died as old men and women, kept in caring comfort in the walls of their dream, tended to until their final, peaceful days. Indeed, if Salazar took after his inhuman ancestors heavily enough he could have outlived them all in his original body, perhaps even to the present day. Bah, there are too many questions raised with unsatisfactory answers.

After first downing a good part of a new bottle of firewhiskey with shaking hands, I waited for a moment after reading this to compose myself. Curse that brat, how could he know that his stoic potions professor would shed a tear after reading his words. Even now I am shocked at the level of his awareness and intuitiveness, that he should suspect me of such a thing. Once I composed myself, I decided to take his words to heart as best I could. The shock of the fall of the Founders notwithstanding, I knew that there was nothing I could do to change that history, so I decided to indulge my rather morbid curiousity and investigate the map. As noble and loving as he may have been, Harry/Salazar still possesses a sick, twisted mind.

Following his riddles and map, I found myself wandering around almost the entirety of the castle. It called for me to find and use secret passages that even the Marauders weren't aware of, and after something of a wild goose chase, with my ever-present avian escort that might even be more twisted than Harry, I found myself in an ancient part of the castle, one untouched by recent students. There were classrooms covered by a carpet of dust, long-forgotten dorms, and such, but the map led me past such areas until I finally arrived at a dead-end corridor. Against the wall in front of me hung a large tapestry of such exquisite quality that it stole my breath for a moment, and when I examined the figures closely I did have to remember to breathe. Rendered in stunning detail was a campfire scene at the edge of the woods with four figures scattered around in various stages of repose. This would normally not be something to be taken aback over, but with a layer of dust removed the figures are revealed to be the Founders themselves, the image a scene from their wandering days. The unmistakable figure of Godric reclines against a log, hand on his sword yet with a smile on his face. Helga is tending the fire, and is caught in the moment of a hearty, genuine laugh, while Rowena is sitting cross-legged, smirking yet focused on the scroll before her. These figures are each captured with painting-like accuracy, yet the fourth figure clutches at my heart. Lying with his head in Godric's lap with his legs serving as Rowena's reading surface, and caught in the moment of taking Helga's hand is the striking figure that was Salazar Slytherin, lean and pale with shining black hair and emerald eyes that seem to shine even in this poor light. He wears an expression of perfect happiness and contentment on his face that is echoed in those of his companions', and if there was any doubt in my mind of the accuracy of his words then this tapestry that was commissioned within their lifetimes would lay them to rest.

As large a find as this was, there was still one last clue to decipher, and once I quickly puzzled it out I was rewarded with a grinding sound coming from behind the tapestry. Gently pushing it aside, I found yet another secret door that has perhaps been untouched since the tapestry was first hung. Still checking for security measures, despite the growing feeling that my spells would be ineffective against many that were known by the Founders, I entered the room and had to pause a moment to absorb the entirety of my find. Gathered there in the largely nondescript room were a large selection of scrolls and a few bound books, all in excellent condition. An envelope bearing my name rested against the pile, and it explained that these were all the surviving records from the time of the Founders that Harry could find, and that they were being entrusted to my care. A treasure indeed, for if the journal is any indicator they hold secrets that could in some ways revive the time that he is so nostalgic for.

As worn out from all these surprises as I was, I sat down in one of the chairs and leaned back to relax when the strangest thing happened. My leaning must have triggered some kind of mechanism, for a large section of the floor began to sink, forming a narrow spiral staircase down into pitch darkness. Since the scrolls were the treasure intended by Harry, this new development was something of a shock. I wondered at another part of his letter, which stated that I was to only touch the treasure. Lighting my wand, I headed down into the darkness, climbing down into perhaps the very heart of Hogwarts. After the interminable descent, I found myself facing a door emblazoned with the seal of Hogwarts, with larger, more elaborate renditions of the four House animals scattered around. I hesitated for a moment, for I wasn't sure of what laid behind this door. From my experiences, one thing that Harry loved to do was flaunt his obscure knowledge, yet he did not anticipate that I would find the staircase. As concerned as I was about the fact that Harry decided not to divulge about this secret passage when he has a past record of showing such things off, I opened the door, only to be greeted with a sight that will remain with me to the end of my days.

There, in a circle pointing in the four cardinal directions lay four large stone sarcophagi, which seemed to seamlessly emerge from the rock of the floor. I will confess that at this point I, Severus Snape, feared professor, Death Eater, and spy, was trembling. The final resting places of the Founders was never found, and many thought the graves were dug up and desecrated. I took several hesitating steps closer, and with one hand I brushed off some of the ever-present dust from the lid of the nearest sarcophagus, which was in the position facing north. When cleared off, I stood there staring dumbly at the lid, which bore a golden badger in the lid and the inscription Helga Hufflepuff. In a state of shock, I turned to the sarcophagus facing east, revealing the name of Godric Gryffindor and a golden lion rampant. The south-facing sarcophagi bore the eagle crest and name of Rowena Ravenclaw, which left me with only the west-facing sarcophagi yet unrevealed. My heart lept into my chest as I removed the dust with a shaking hand, revealing a silver serpent and the name of Salazar Slytherin. Here, before me lay what remains of the original body of Salazar Slytherin/Harry Potter, and I am not ashamed to reveal that I stood there and wept as the importance of his goal sunk in. Before me was proof that there were people willing to die for the sake of others without selfish aims, and evidence of a friendship that continued up to and perhaps beyond death. Even the crow was subdued, and didn't even do his usual round of Malfoy-tormenting when we returned to my chambers to find both waiting. Tomorrow I will take Tom and the others down to see for themselves after they read the publishable version, I have not the strength tonight. I just wish to finish the bottle of whiskey and lose myself in my thoughts, with the unusually silent crow, my only real link to Harry, as my sole company. Wherever the Founders may be, I hope that they are proud of what their long-lost friend has done. I'm sure that they are.


	27. Chapter 26

_Journal entry the twenty-sixth_

_I've been somewhat negligent regarding my journal entries, I just haven't had the desire to write for a few weeks now. Drudging up those memories took more than I thought it would, but I'm back to my usual state now. Sylvain did such a wonderful job during my extended day-trip that whenever you see Harry Potter about the school there's a fifty-fifty chance that it's actually Sylvain. It truly is a tribute to the self-involvement of humans and their kin that no one notices such a switch. Even Remus had a conversation with Sylvain and didn't suspect a thing. Odd, that meeting, for Sylvain still reeks of basilisk. Then again, perhaps I have some trace of basilisk in my scent anyway so it's not that far a stretch, not to mention that there's no way Remus could know what a basilisk smells like. If only he knew what he was trying to coddle and nurture, some sense of reality would be scared back into him. _

_It could be my imagination, but I think that my true appearance is changing slightly. A new shadow here, a shade lighter there, and I would swear that I am starting to resemble myself as Salazar more than ever before. Such changes usually would happen when my magical powers matured, which was quite some time ago, so this is odd. I could just be seeing things, which is a very likely possibility, or perhaps my patron has a sense of humour just as twisted as mine. I suppose I'd be bored too, waiting around for ages for someone to remember. Not that such things matter, because all anyone save Dobby and Sylvain will ever see is my glamours, in one form or another. Still, it's an interesting development in my somewhat precarious position, and I learned long ago that sometimes the most minor details are what determines the outcome of a situation. When I look in the mirror, despite the ravages of my disease I feel something oddly akin to hope as for the first time in a while I see myself in my own reflection. Bizarre statement, I know, but Harry was never who I really was, just a poor shadow that could have rivaled my life as Salazar had I been free from such grievous interference. Hope, I'm not sure where it has been coming from, but I have been having more and more episodes of it recently, despite my brain telling it to shut up. I suppose I will have to wait and see whether the hope is fulfilled, but since I already live on borrowed time it's rather like pissing in the wind. _

_I suppose you are likely still reeling from my last entry, my dear Sev. I do not blame you, such revelations are bound to leave a mark on any who read them. I found myself longing to go pay my respects these past few weeks, visit the graves of my friends, yet despite all my research and searching I cannot for the life of me find what happened to our bodies. The only clue I found was that to protect against vandals the graves were hidden so well that the location was forgotten about in the lifetimes of the people who conducted the rites. Various spells were laid on the chamber, sealing it from all intruders regardless of their power or lineage. Perhaps when I accomplish my goal and restore Hogwarts to what it was, those spells will be erased and someone, hopefully with proper intentions, will find us. It's something of a long-shot to even entertain the possibility of our resting place being revealed, but there goes that bloody hope again, getting in the way. I have a feeling that our bodies still rest in Hogwarts, but even I cannot pinpoint where. _

_I feel as if each day I am moving further and further from my banal existence as Harry Potter and closer to the mostly enjoyable time I had as Salazar. Given a choice, I would drop Harry in a heartbeat. After all, the best parts of Harry are the best parts of Salazar as well. It is tempting, to let Sylvain take over the role while I pursue my own interests. I can tell that he is truly disturbed by the thought of my death, but at the same time there is a strange aura of acceptance and certainty about him. When I inquire, he does the serpent equivalent of a shrug and changes the topic, trusting to my sense of tact to drop it, which I do despite my increasing curiousity. He is my friend, however, and I trust him implicitly so I can rest assured that whatever he has planned will not be detrimental to my own plans. If nothing else, I know that those who are my true friends will never betray me. That may sound like something of an idealistic statement, but the number of true friends I have had in both lives combined is still within single digits, and each one of them proved themselves true. I never knew false friendship, really, until my time as Harry where I was surrounded by people just waiting to stab me in the back and deny that they did so. Perhaps I will broach my idea to Sylvain, see if he wouldn't mind covering a few more of my public performances. Nobody would really notice that "Hedwig" was missing, and even if they did I could rig something up. Hell, he probably knows my classmates better than I by now, since he's pretty much the ultimate spy. For your piece of mind, Sev, I will still take over any classes or meetings that involve you. The only time you might have encountered Sylvain would be in the Great Hall, sneaking around after hours, or other such escapades. The rest can twist in the wind for all I care. _

_I hope that you are enjoying the treasure I am certain you have found by now. Those items are worth far more than their weight in gold, and I knew that you would treat them with the respect they deserve. I was extremely surprised to find a text from my very first potions class, written in my own hand and in surprisingly good condition. Sev, you will never guess where I found it. Seriously, it will throw you for a loop. Even though I am not related to the Potters by blood, I am still the legal head of the family and as such have full access and control over the vaults. Why such a 'light' family saw fit to hoard a book written by the bogeyman Slytherin is beyond me, even the goblin seemed shocked. I do adore Gringotts, the goblins provide perhaps the best security and privacy anyone could ask for. They are fully aware of my real birth parents and lineage, and as such treat me with the respect I was shown as Salazar. If the Ministry ran themselves with a quarter of goblin efficiency, they could easily be the best-run human government in Europe, if not the world. Of course the vast majority of humans would rather wipe themselves out than learn something from a non-human, so it's their loss. If only they were to open their ears and wipe their minds of silly prejudices, they could improve the state of their species dramatically. Sometimes, when this thought frustrates me to no end, I take my animagus form (gee, now what would the great half-Naga-im Salazar change to, hmm..) and distance myself from those strange looking monkeys just for kicks. _

_On an unrelated note, it would seem that Valentine's day is upon us, and while the juvenile antics of lust-struck humans would normally make me laugh, this time it is faintly repulsive. Perhaps it is because I would like nothing more than to have the freedom to pursue you on such a day, Sev, or it could be that I am just tired of witnessing people of what is supposed to be my generation flitting around like fools, wasting more energy than I even possess at the moment. Normally I would use this opportunity to prank the daylights out of the unsuspecting humans, but aside from revisiting Lockhart's cupids I think I'll just leave this holiday alone. Sylvain can double for me if he wishes, and I'll be the one slithering through the walls and pipes, keeping an eye on their well-being. I'm not a complete grouch about the holiday, there is a gift I have for you Sev, but I felt that it would be prudent to wait until you would be able to appreciate such a thing. I know I've made several allusions to my portion of the ancient Library of Alexandria, and I surmise that many hours have been spent by yourself and others searching for it. The majority of my collection is not within Hogwarts, for the power that some of the scrolls actually radiate was starting to interfere with some of my other more delicate works. All save my current favourites are stashed in a very safe location which I will share. Don't think I'm going to make it easy on you Severus, I am still a tricky bastard no matter what shape I wear. Find the Mirror of Erised, and if you can endure whatever you witness in the mirror the clue will appear afterwards. If not, well, I suppose the library will remain lost to history. _

_I will give you one piece of advice before you would depart on your search: it is quite far away, and apparation won't work, so leave prepared for a journey. Oh, and try to get over any remaining fear you might have about large dog-like creatures. Didn't have any choice with that one, I would have preferred some kind of serpent. Ah well, beggars can't be choosers. Enjoy your vacation Sev, and if you want feel free to take a few others with you. Tom's probably been moping around the castle for quite some time by now, he could use the fresh air as well. Sometimes I worry about my descendant, he's such a sweet and sensitive soul that I fear that my finale might push him too far. If you are on good terms with him by now Sev, I ask that you keep an eye on him. One trait that runs throughout our family is that we care deeply about friends and family, so deeply that it would be easy to push one over the brink after being subjected to a large trauma. If I had survived that final battle after witnessing my friends fall, I might have become the scary Slytherin of legend in response to that terrible loss. _

_Upon your arrival, you might wonder how I am able to access such a large library so far away from Hogwarts with ease. Well, my secret technique is... magic. Didn't see that one coming, hm? People get so caught up in spells and procedures that they fail to see that magic can help you do pretty much whatever you want once you free your mind of such linear thinking. The only procedures I follow are when the magic would involve another being or beings that are linear thinkers, because to do so otherwise would blow something in their heads. Have fun Sev, and I hope that what is revealed to you will ease your mind somewhat. Dawn is approaching, and I feel I must retire for the day. As I watch the sun rise, I can't help but feel hope stir once more in my breast, for at that magical moment when night is shoved aside and light fills the world once more it is hard not to dream that perhaps each dawn will be a new beginning. Ah, listen to me, I sound like an old man. Wait, I am an old man. Damn, I will have to play at least one prank today to dispel that notion. Ta, love._

Unnatural, that one person should be so insightful as to deduce circumstances that occurred after his death. Despite my past experiences with this journal, I am once more unsettled by his uncanny ability of deduction that would perhaps rival the fictional Great Detective himself.

Under normal circumstances, I usually pen my responses shortly after reading an entry, sitting in my favourite armchair before the fire with a glass of whiskey and, recently, a bird reading over my shoulder and trying, occasionally, to pick out any stray gray hairs that it might find. I am rather surprised to say that it hasn't found one yet, amazing considering the shocks I have gone through recently and the stress that I have experienced for most of my life. Today, however, it has been a week since I first read this journal entry, and I find myself in a muggle hotel room in modern day Luxor, on the east bank of the Nile, with a solemn yet excited former Dark Lord flipping through channels on the TV at random and the bloody bird trying to eat something that it found at a local vendor stall. Even before it snatched it from the cart, I am still not sure what it is trying to eat, although every so often I swear I see a glimpse of bone. Looking closer, I quickly come to the conclusion that I do not want to know, considering the rather organic nature of many of the 'souvenirs' the local merchants try to sell to the numerous tourists.

Immediately upon finishing the entry, I left my quarters to find the blasted Mirror of Erised. This must be something of an inside joke for him, since if I recall correctly the Mirror has already been the hiding spot for the Sorcerer's Stone, and nearly got Harry killed in his first year when he really was just Harry Potter, before his memories and powers were returned. Since that event, the Mirror has languished in an old storage closet, largely forgotten by all once it served its purpose. It lay there, looking innocent under a drop cloth, and after steeling myself with a deep breath I whisked the cloth away and stared into the mirror, anxious to get this part of the search over with. If the Mirror truly does show the heart's desire of whomever gazes into it, I am royally screwed. After subjecting myself to scenes of passion that are no longer possible, an image of Harry standing there, in his true appearance at the time, overrode the mirror and flashed me a very familiar smirk. After blowing me a kiss, smirk still on his face, he fingered the necklace that he was wearing, triggering a flash of light that momentarily blinded me. Once my vision cleared, the vision of Harry was long gone and I could feel the weight of the necklace around my neck. Confused, upset, and just generally snarky after this encounter, I made my way back to my quarters after issuing a record amount of detentions to any of the students that got in my way.

Settling myself in my chambers and composing myself, I decided to inspect the necklace further, searching for the clue. The necklace itself was rather heavy, and I now knew the reason to be that it was almost entirely composed out of pure gold. The thick chain was rather plain upon casual inspection, but closer examination revealed it to be quite elaborate, with thin strands of gold intricately embroidered together in striking patterns to form one much thicker chain. As impressive as the chain is, the pendant renders the chain almost inconsequential. It is a large pendant, easily the size of my palm, and consists of a pair of twin dog-like creatures, which with further research revealed themselves to be jackals, flanking perhaps the largest emerald cabochon ever to exist. The impossibly large emerald is roughly the size and shape of a chicken egg, and seems to have been split in half, for the back is perfectly flat and flush with the setting while the front of the emerald shows a slight unevenness in the stone, which is fairly common in ancient antiquities. Judging from the workmanship and quality of the pendant, not to mention the gold content alone, I deduced that this pendant was certainly older than Salazar, and was ancient Egyptian in origin. Despite the worksmanship and origin of the piece, I was still at a loss to figure the clue, thinking that I had somehow glossed over an important piece of information.

At this point it was near dawn, and Tom had decided to check on me to ensure that I at least tried to sleep and eat something, two tasks that I in fact did not indulge in this night. After telling him the summary of my late night adventures, I handed him the pendant, which ultimately revealed the clue that I spent a good part of the night searching for. He whistled and came to the same conclusions I did, but when he held the pendant up to the window to examine the jewel in better light, the first rays of dawn reached the window and suddenly the jewel began to glow with a fierce emerald-tinged light. Where the reflected light hit the floor, suddenly the image of a map began to appear. With Tom held immobile with shock, the map began to clarify and soon we were treated to a slightly transparent, green tinged map of ancient Egypt, with one spot glowing brighter than its surroundings. After pulling myself out of the stupor, I found an atlas among my library and found that the spot being highlighted was none other than the city of Alexandria, at the mouth of the Nile.

Immediately we began to make preparations for our departure, for Harry was indeed right that Tom was starting to be consumed by his feelings of loss, and it was ripping him to shreds. After packing a goodly number of supplies, heeding Harry's warning (we would be foolish not to after all), and changing into suitable muggle clothing Tom and I made our way to the apparation point. After a series of apparations, we arrived on the outskirts of the city just after midday. After uttering a few cooling charms apiece, we made our way into the city to regain our bearings and find lodging for the night. At this point I was grateful that Tom agreed to come along, for he is far more at ease in the muggle world and understands some of the fine nuances better than I. After securing a bed at a local hotel that caters almost exclusively to tourists, we sat down to examine the pendant further bur found its appearance unchanged. Holding the pendant up to the sun did nothing but reward us with a blinding headache and green dots swirling before our eyes, so after some discussion we agreed to wait until dawn to examine the pendant further.

Not wishing to waste the opportunity, we sat down at a local café and indulged ourselves with many of the local delicacies. If Harry did indeed wish this to be something of a vacation for us, it would be incredibly rude not to savour this moment away from the students, and to relax without worrying about exploding cauldrons or deadly fumes. Just as we were beginning to relax, Tom made an innocent remark about the absence of our feathered friend. No sooner than the words left his mouth we heard a screaming come from down the street, with rapid fire curses being shouted in Greek. Tom and I groaned simultaneously, realizing that we had set ourselves up rather nicely for some crow-induced havoc. We were foolish to think that we had eluded it for the meantime, and waited at the café for the familiar black shape to make itself known to us. Sure enough, it sped towards us at top speed, clutching something in its beak. After flying directly at our drinks, spilling them all over us, it sat there on the table with what can only be described as a reproachful look. With a clunk it dropped the object on the table, which proved itself to be a somewhat battered stone figure of the ancient god Anubis, likely a reproduction stolen from the screaming vendor. Sharing a glance, Tom grabbed the figure while I grabbed the bird, albeit very gently, and we quickly retreated from the scene, leaving enough money on the table to cover our bill. After retreating back to our hotel room, the bird immediately made for the stone figure again, clutching it in his one talon as it settled down on the dresser. Realizing that with the scene caused by the bloody bird, who stands out in this part of the world as an ostrich would in England, we needed to leave the city as soon as possible to avoid any troubles, for who knows what the bird got itself into before meeting up with us. Gathering our belongings, and using as little magic as possible in the presence of muggles, we agreed that we would leave after we examined the pendant again at dawn. Hopefully it wouldn't direct us towards another spot in Alexandria, for the gleam in the crow's eyes does not bode well for us at the moment.

After a long night of restless sleep, largely due to the crow cawing loudly once upon the hour, every hour, we found ourselves awake just before daybreak. Standing at the east-facing window, Tom held the pendant once more and we sat there, awaiting the first rays of dawn. The crow even joined us, not letting go of the stone statue of course but staring at the pendant with unnatural, rapt attention. Just before the dawn broke, it's gaze swept down from the pendant in a straight line, finally pausing at a spot on the bare wood floor. Following the bird's example, we stared at that spot and were rewarded when the light finally hit the pendant, and the map began to emerge once more from that very spot. We both sighed in relief when we observed that the glowing spot was not Alexandria, but somewhat further down the river this time. Scanning through some of the tourist information the hotel provided us with, it was revealed that the site indicated was present day Luxor. With this bit of information revealed, we immediately prepared to apparate to the city directly, but were blocked by very strange anti-apparation wards. Realizing that we couldn't get near the city through magical means did not discourage us at all, rather it reassured us that we were on the right track, and perhaps near the resting place of his library. We left the hotel and chartered passage on a ship heading south. We were lucky to find one leaving in an hour, but that ship had a three day relay in Cairo before proceeding south towards Luxor. As long as we left Alexandria soon, we were fine. Neither of us simply wanted to deal with whatever angry mob the crow had managed to rally, after all.

Our time in Cairo was largely uneventful, although I took the opportunity to further my research about the history of ancient Egypt, and specifically the area that we were heading towards. After finding that Luxor is situated at the site of the ancient city of Thebes, I felt a strange sensation run through my body, almost like a full shudder. Admittedly we were unsure of exactly where we were going to end up, but after reading about the necropolis of Thebes there remains no doubt in my mind that such a place is where Harry is leading us. We spent our days touring the city and taking in the sites, blending in with a multitude of other tourists, and as we sat at the top of one of the Great Pyramids one night, gazing out at the landscape that had served as a cradle of human civilizations, where once strange gods and monsters undoubtedly ran around and humans knew magics and skills long lost to memory, I felt a pang of loss as I realized how thrilled Harry would have been to be able to experience this with company. Tom felt it as well, for we shared a knowing, solemn glance that was only broken by the bird landing on my head, still clutching the damned souvenir, and cawing at the large moon with gusto.

The boat ride was largely uneventful as well, although we did receive many a wary glance from the black bird on my shoulder. Once we arrived in Luxor, we were struck with how different the very air felt as opposed to Alexandria or Cairo. Where those cities had been largely modern and had a similar vibe about them as London, from the minute we set foot in Luxor we felt a strong, ancient magic at work here. The temples may be in ruins, and the priests long gone (or so it appears, at least), but far too many events happened here, magical and non, imbuing the very landscape with powerful magic. Most tourists would gaze at the ruins of the temples and try to envision what it must have been like, but for Tom and I we could feel it. Most of the ruins still bear traces of ancient, powerful wards, and there are even several magical hot-spots still active, burning as brightly as they did millennia ago. The ancient world may have long passed, but at the site of Thebes parts of it still live on to this very day, at least to those with magic of their own. We were rather unsettled by this revelation, and the crow was the only member of our party that seemed to escape it, although on our way to the hotel I did spot it staring at various sites with intense interest, and at those times it was easy to remember that this bird is far more than it seems.

When the dawn breaks, we will once more consult the pendant, but for now I think it is time to retire for the night. Who knows what the dawn will bring, indeed, and I for one wish to be well rested. I brought along the journal so that I will not fall behind, and will finish the account of our 'vacation' likely with the next entry. Somehow I get the feeling that this journey is far more important than what Harry let on, and there is more at stake than the artifacts from the ancient, long-lost library. We shall find out on the morrow, and in the meantime I shall do battle with the bloody bird over the pillow. Tonight, by Merlin, I will sleep properly in bed for once.


	28. Chapter 27

_Journal entry the twenty-seventh_

_It just occurred to me that I have not made any real predictions with this journal recently. Shame on me then, and I shall now endeavor to catch up. Just don't overdo the firewhiskey Sevvie dear, I have plenty more surprises up my sleeve after all. If I were a gambling man, I would bet the farm that when you are reading this journal you are already in Egypt, most likely near your destination. I will also bet that you have not yet discovered my secret library, since your sense of caution and innate cunning would prompt you to check the journal for any potential clues, knowing full well that I most likely neglected to seed them in this entry. Or, did I? _

_Well, with that bit of prankish taunting out of the way, if you've made it as far as I suspect then I'm sure that you have felt the powerful magics surrounding your present location. I know that I have stated this before, but it is the folly of the modern world that they believe themselves far more advanced than those before them. Tell me, what modern wizard or wizards could create spells that still burn brightly even after four thousand years after all. As far as I'm concerned, the only institution that could and likely will have that kind of longevity would be Hogwarts itself, mostly because I'm busting my arse making sure of that fact. It's gorgeous, isn't it Sev? When I first stepped foot in that area I was moved to tears. I hope you took Tom along with you, because there's a little side trip I think you'll find interesting. Oh, but where would the fun be if I just told you my dear Sev? Find the place where the hawk can spot the serpent devouring the sun, and follow the serpent to it's lair. See, not that bad a clue, and one I'm sure you'll moan and groan about but have little difficulty with. At least I'm not dredging up old tools like the Mirror now. If you think you had a hard time looking into that Mirror, imagine what I went through. Not only did memories of that moronic Quirrell come flooding back, but needless to say the images I was presented with threatened to shatter what's left of my heart. Bloody useless thing, why it was even stashed in the school is beyond me. Same goes for a lot of artifacts, even the Sorcerer's Stone. Only a truly twisted mind would use a school as his own private vault. Ye gods, I still shudder when I think about all the damage that good ole Dumbles managed to do to my school during his reign. _

_Speaking of which, I think that the old coot is finally starting to figure out that his plans are starting to be thwarted, by a third party yet unknown to him. I personally don't know why it took so long for him to catch on, especially after Tom and his merry band of rogues changed tracks so rapidly. One of the portraits let me know that, with the absence of Death Eater attacks, the smarmy git is planning to stage Death Eater raids with Order members under the influence of Imperio. I of all people should know that he's a piece of filth, scum not worthy to grace the planet, yet even I am shocked by the depth of his depravity. Of course I cannot let this happen, but to act against Dumbles would show a bit more of my hand than I would have liked. Can't be helped, I suppose. I'm sure I can get Tom to come along on this lovely little adventure, and imagining the shock on the coot's fate when his 'Death Eaters' are being opposed by the real Death Eaters, whom will be trying to save the innocents he would have slaughtered. _

_Since I don't trust the coot as far as I can throw him, I will be in attendance at the battle as well, as will Sylvain. Of course, neither of us will look like ourselves, I think it's time to shake things up a bit. Most likely you will have been there, Sev, since you are so close to Tom, so I will let you in on the joke. Remember that strange fighter with greenish-silver hair and sharpish teeth? I'm sure most will think him some type of vampire, but that is what I like to call Sylvain's animagus form. Since wizards shift into animals, why can't an animal that shifts to human have that designation after all. He doesn't really like human form too much, but he does like thumbs. I'm not really sure what form I will take but I am inclining towards a blood gift that I haven't really used to near its full potential, and one that my patron finds highly amusing. If I can get a boost from him, I'll likely use it. If not, I'll just take serpent form and scare the crap out of everyone. That's always a fun evening for me after all, the scent of fear is something of a narcotic. Or if I'm not up to shifting at the moment I could always just use the Bard skill and make everyone on the field do the chicken dance or such. We'll see, I suppose. Maybe I'll do it all. Variety is the spice of life, after all._

_Ah, now I feel in a pranking mood, but if I am correct you are nowhere near Hogwarts. Perfect. If you are near a muggle TV, turn it on and pick a random channel. If not, I recommend getting to one if you wish to watch. Wait until all the professors and students would be filing in for supper, and when you are ready for some giggles say the word "traitor". This should throw everyone for a loop, since you and the journal are quite far away and would not be logically blamed for this event. That should make all the involved parties extremely paranoid. I'm getting better at this kind of spell, it seems. Maybe I can use it for more than my own twisted delight, and the delight of others whom I choose. Maybe I should use this power for the forces of good, to fight the wicked and set the wrong things right... Nah. It's too ripe for prank possibilities, and I have other ways to accomplish my goals. This is just for laughs, after all. _

_I can't help but wonder if a spirit has found its way towards you, and if so is it accompanying you on your journeys. That would be... interesting, in so many ways. That would definitely be a factor I can't anticipate in the least, but the die is cast and I must let things lie as they may. I pride myself on being quite the prankster, and let's just say that my patron and I are kindred spirits in a way, not to mention an extremely distant blood relation. Damn, my ancestors were horny little buggers. I digress, if there is a spirit it was chosen by my patron, and all the spirits around him share our love for pranks, then I think I actually pity you somewhat Sev. Once again, knowing my patron's snarky sense of humour, he'd likely send the worst of the bunch. I am both highly amused and sympathetic regarding your potential plight, my dear Sev. Hopefully the damage won't be too bad considering that the spirit would be incorporeal. Still, good luck my dear Sev, I think that you will likely need it. _

_I know that the Egyptian heat is likely quite stifling, despite cooling charms which I think you will find do not work as well as they did farther north. If you wish to heed the advice of a dead man, I advise you to tread carefully. Even though you and whatever companions you brought have protection, there are forces still at work around you. Ancient magics that over time have developed something of a life of their own can be quite tempting, but it would easily consume you. Not only that, but by all means if you get even a papercut make sure that all blood is staunched.. a drop of magical blood in certain places would activate things perhaps best left in the past. Unless of course you wish to be pursued by various types of undead or minor gods through the desert. I somehow don't think that you would find such a thing enjoyable. I certainly didn't, at least. See, I was scouting out locations for the library when I had a coughing spell, and a few flecks of blood hit a stone altar, which resulted in me playing silly buggers with a few dozen crocodile-headed pygmy zombies. Fortunately they weren't too bright and fell down an air shaft, but I don't think the risk is worth it. _

_Most importantly Severus, I want you to enjoy yourself. So help me, if you spend all your time brooding and wasting your life moping about I'll find some way to exact revenge. You are alive, Sev, and free from all masters. Just keep telling yourselves that things are not what they seem, and hopefully you will soon bear witness to the prank to end all pranks, one that would turn the wizarding world upside down even more than I already have. What is this prank you may wonder... you'll just have to wait and see, Sev. I see you shiver with antici...pantion. Hah, couldn't resist the RHPS, did anyone ever tell you that you would make a marvelous Frankie? I digress, it grows late and I am ever the busy man. _

Bah, it seems that for every piece of information he gives us access to it only raises many more questions. For example, if the crow is actually the spirit Harry refers to, which I believe it to be, why the hell does it have a corporeal form. As skilled as Harry was with such schemes, I can't help but think that near the end another force began to intervene without his knowledge. This is the third time that Harry's predictions haven't quite gone to plan, the second being our adventures in the Necropolis.

When dawn broke, Tom once more held the pendant to the window and once more we were rewarded with a very detailed three-dimensional map. Unlike previous times, the map was not of Egypt itself but the surrounding necropolis. The glowing point led us to a tract of land on the west banks of the Nile, not to far from the tombs of long-dead pharaohs. Since neither of us can be called headstrong Gryffindors, we both sat down and discussed our approach. It was a reasonable enough deduction that we would be heading towards an area that has yet been unmolested by tourists, since Harry would never leave something so precious out in the open, and the ancient magics surrounding us have served as something of a warning. We would have been foolish to rush off into a potentially dangerous situation, protection or no, so rather than head directly to the location indicated by the pendant we decided to spend some time figuring out the side trip presented to us by Harry, riddle and all.

We emerged from our hotel room, indeed sweltering in the mid-day heat despite cooling charms, and took advantage of the wealth of tourist information available to us. After scouting several possible locations, only one really stood out as a potential starting point within the Temple of Karnak, the Precinct of Amun-Re. Since most information provided to your standard tourist is laid out in a very user-friendly manner, we found that Amun-Re was, at times at least, a sun god and commonly represented as bearing a hawk head. The only reference we could find of a serpent was the god Apep, who continuously tried to devour the sun out of jealousy and spite. Needless to say, Tom was not very happy at this revelation, seeing as serpents have been unjustly reviled through most of history. From the rest of the clue, we deduced that if we were to find a high point within the Precinct of Amun-Re and look westwards towards the setting sun, there would be some type of visible clue that would lead us on this side trip.

We spent some time trying to figure out how we could gain access to the Temple in that way, considering the large number of tourists at all hours and the extensive wards blocking magic. We were just about to move on to our other quest when our dear feathered friend solved our problem for us by perching on Hatshepsut's obelisk and cawing like a fiend. It then rejoined us and began to lead us westward, out of the temple complex towards a rather unremarkable looking stretch of land. That answered one of my questions at least, the only way the bird could have known what we were looking for was to have read it over my shoulder. Giving each other an almost out of character shrug, Tom and I slipped away from the crowds and followed the feathered menace. It came to rest not to far from the Temple, far enough that we would be out of sight yet close enough that we could still make out much of the layout, and perched on a strange looking piece of rock. Dusting it off, we revealed some rather worn engravings and hieroglyphs, yet there was one image that seemed untouched by time, a carving of a large serpent, likely Apep himself. We were somewhat at a loss, and once again it was the bird that prodded us into action, namely by dive-bombing Tom until he began hissing in frustration. I'm not sure I wish to know the parseltongue profanity shared that day, but after a few rounds the surface of the stone began to shimmer, and shifted to reveal an underground passageway, accessible by a narrow staircase. The bird immediately plunged into the darkness, and since we weren't about to be showed up by a bird we descended into the darkness ourselves, relieved when lumos charms seemed to work. We followed the passageway, which bore many reliefs and paintings on the wall in remarkable, if not perfect condition, depicting the serpent Apep succeeding in his goal. Tom grew more animated as we progressed, fascinated by the images of serpent worship and eagerly anticipating what lay ahead. I will confess it was rather rewarding to see that gleam in his eyes once more, for just that moment he was the man I remembered from my youth.

We came to a halt at a seeming dead end, our path blocked by a large stone with an immense serpent carving. Remembering the crow's lesson, and perhaps thinking back to the Chamber, Tom began to speak to the carving. If stone could look surprised, that carving came as close as possible before retracting into the wall, revealing a large, underground chamber illuminated by various natural minerals. Tiny trickles of water ran down the stone walls, to add to the lake covering much of the floor, indicating that if we weren't in fact under the Nile itself we were close enough to make no difference. A stone altar graced the far wall, guarded by an immense golden statue of what appeared to be a basilisk. Before we could fully take in our surroundings, we were interrupted by a strange rumbling, splashing sound which unnerved us, to say the least. The only reason we likely did not retreat was our faith in Harry's directions. If he did not want to see harm befoul us, I doubt that he would lead us into a situation with unnecessary amounts of peril. Shortly after the noise started, we were graced with the cause of the uproar. Easily larger than any basilisk Tom had ever witnessed, a truly immense basilisk slithered into the room, it's scales reflecting the light with rainbow colours. It began to speak, but sensing that I was unable to follow it did a snake equivalent of rolling it's eyes and stared at the pocket that the pendant was currently residing. With hands only trembling slightly, I put on the pendant and was surprised when I could suddenly understand, and presumably speak parseltongue.

Satisfied with my action, it resumed its dialogue. Needless to say, the basilisk was even more surprised at visitors then we were to encounter such a creature. It then proceeded to explain that this was the long-lost Temple of Apep, where only those humans given the gift of parseltongue through divine means were allowed to worship. The basilisk, which indeed went under the name of Apep despite being female, was surprised once more to realize that Tom carried basilisk blood, seeing as the only basilisk line to breed with other species was the Naga-im, and she thought that the human line had ended. I explained some of Salazar's story, but she cut me off to explain that she had met the individual of which I speak less than a year ago, and that they had quite a lovely conversation. Apparently when Harry was in town he decided to pay a visit to the resident serpent god, who as it is revealed is actually his aunt, the sister of Salazar's father. Tom was the primary speaker during the conversation, anxious to learn more about his family, but we were interrupted by a cawing nuisance. When the crow made its entrance, Apep actually drew back somewhat, a wary look in her eyes, and after a moment of thought ordered us to go. She gave us pieces of crystal from the cave, which would serve as a portkey should we ever wish to visit her again, and she sent us on our way. I know that the comparison is rather odd, but I found myself reminded heavily of a serpent version of Molly Weasley.

As we made our way back to the hotel room, Tom was quite incensed that the crow would be so bold as to interrupt the family reunion and was about to hex the bird into the next country when the bird suddenly looked over towards the stone. We turned our attention that way and a cold shudder came over us when we saw a strange fog engulf the area, dissolving any organic material that happened to rest near the now closed stone. If we had delayed a moment longer, we likely would have been caught in that mysterious cloud. Tom immediately put away his wand and stared at the crow with reverence. The crow at least was not fazed by the near hexing and decided to ride home on my head, still clutching the statue this entire time. I for one was quite anxious to return to the room and attempt to get a good night's rest, to the point where I didn't even bother to remove the noisy, clever bird from my head despite the stares and occasional evil eye sent my way.

By the time we arrived at our room, it was decided that we could use something to lift our spirits so we decided to investigate this remote-controlled prank. Making ourselves comfortable on the beds, with the crow sitting on the nightstand eating something that I hope is some kind of dried fruit, we turned on the television and, journal in hand, uttered the word traitor. It was indeed dinnertime in the Great Hall, with everyone in attendance when suddenly all hell broke loose. First, in an attempt to make a point about class unity each and every student's robe was suddenly tie-dyed in vivid shades of red, blue, green, black, silver, and gold. That was met with surprise, but after the initial shock most of the students seemed quite pleased with the results. At the head table, however, the prank was not being met with such good spirits. Each and every professor present experienced a change in dress as well, except they were suddenly wearing giant fuzzy suits of various cartoon animals. After a moment of confusion, another aspect of the prank revealed itself when the professors suddenly started acting like the creatures they were dressed as. Minerva, dressed as a black and white cat, was being chased by a prancing Flitwick, dressed as a skunk, with many cartoon hearts coming from his head. Hagrid was perhaps the only one taking the change in good spirits, lounging about dressed as a giant rooster, but Madam Hooch and Professor Sprout were in a bit more distress, being dressed as an odd looking coyote and a blue and purple bird with long legs, respectfully, due to the frequent explosions and high falls of random cliffs that would appear in the floor, only to have them fall through the ceiling instead. It was quite amusing to see our colleagues subjected to a dose of humility, after all it is good to have a reminder that there are forces out there beyond your control. I am reminded of that myself by the bloody bird, so such pranks would not suit me well anymore.

After laughing ourselves to sleep, we awoke just before dawn feeling refreshed and almost prepared for the journey laid out before us. Packing a few emergency essentials, including our new portkeys, we set out to the west bank and found the spot shown to us on the map. With baited breath, we watched as the first light of dawn struck the pendant once more, showing us an even more detailed map with not just one glowing point but a line leading into the cliffsides. Cross-checking the ancient map with our own, we laid our course and found our way to the spot indicated, dodging tourists the whole way. Investigating the sheer cliff wall that seemed to be our destination, I found a raised, oddly smooth stone that did not seem to belong and before I was aware of it I had pressed the stone in, triggering a chain reaction that revealed a narrow, yet passable tunnel. We ventured in, lighting our wands once more as we followed the passageway further into the cliff. The hallway was surprisingly unadorned, but well-made and free of debris. After a brief hike, which we were taking at a leisurely place while frequently checking for traps, we were pleasantly surprised to arrive in a large chamber. The only exits from the room were the way we came and a large door, guarded by life-sized twin statues of the jackal-headed Anubis that still retained their original paint as if they had just been commissioned. The door itself was decorated with a large bas-relief of an embalming scene with the god standing over the body.

As Tom and I approached the door, I could feel the bird on my shoulder tense somewhat, and seeing as I have never seen the bloody thing ruffled by any situation this unnerved me, yet I continued to press forward. As we got near the door, I took the necklace out and, after a flash of inspiration, held it before the door. The emerald began to glow with an eerie light that mocked the Avada spell, and the twin statues suddenly moved, kneeling down on one knee with heads slightly bowed. The door began to slide open, and before it was finished we heard a terrible growling sound emerge from the room beyond. Our wands came out, only to be snatched by the bloody bird that began scolding us severely. It then perched on one of the statues and began cawing at its highest, shrillest volume, competing with the growling. After a few minutes of this racket, the source of the growling was revealed when a large, man-sized creature entered the room. Even though it possessed the head of a crocodile, body of a lion, and hindquarters of a hippopotamus, it still reminded me of a rabid watchdog, and it was eyeing the bird like it was a tasty treat. In a remarkable show of either bravery or sheer bloody-mindedness, the bird puffed up to twice its size and dive-bombed the strange guardian, ripping out chunks of flesh and fur with the most terrible sounds coming from it. After a few rounds, we stood there forgotten while a large crow somehow managed to take a horrific creature from myth, which I learned later was named Ammut, and made it cower in the corner like a scared puppy. Once the guardian was taken care of, I swear that bloody bird bowed like a stage actor.

We very carefully walked past the scared guardian through the doors, and were rewarded with a breathtaking sight. Placed in this ancient chamber were modern-style bookcases, and in many ways it resembled the library of Hogwarts. We found a letter attached to the wall from Harry, explaining how he used portkeys to travel back and forth between this library and the school, and that we could make our own if desired. We stood there, likely grinning like fools with our find, when once again our reverie was disturbed by the crow. By this point we had learned that the bird only acted like such when our attention was needed, so rather than scowling or dismissing it we immediately gave it our full focus. It was standing on a strange stone that was protruding from the wall, and after giving us a look that could only be described as wicked, it placed the stone statue that it had carried all the way from Alexandria on the stone and hopped off. As soon as the crow had removed itself, a section of the wall began to shimmer and as we watched a new passage was revealed, this one heading deep into the earth. This would be the second omission, the first being the Founder's resting places of course.

Our curiousity piqued by now, and reassured by the presence of the bird that seemed to know what it was doing, don't ask me how, we followed it down. We came out in a strange antechamber, and after scanning the room we found another entranceway with a very powerful yet transparent ward placed over it. Gazing into the sparingly illuminated room, we detected nothing for the longest time until we heard a ghostly scream of pure agony. Raising the ambient lighting, we scanned for the source of the noise and what we saw left us standing immobile and speechless for a long while. There, partially concealed in shadow, was the unmistakable figure of none other than Albus Dumbledore bound to an altar. His body could only be described as broken, and he appeared to be awake despite the damage. As we watched, an unearthly glow surrounded his body as his soul was ripped from his corporeal form. The ghostly Albus was the source of the earlier scream as strange green beams of light shot through him, and the torture continued for a bit until his soul was returned to his body. I don't think we could have moved even if we had tried, yet we jumped in unison as the crow once more began to caw, halting the slight ambient noise coming from the chamber.

Suddenly it felt like ice water was running down my back, and the ambient temperature in the room dropped. The crow was the only one holding its ground, staring into the room as if expecting acknowledgment. Suddenly a figure came into view, absolutely terrifying and majestic at the same time. He glowed with an eerie, otherworldly light, and stood easily over seven feet tall. His skin was bronzed, and he wore a garment that could have been the model for many of the tomb paintings. Of course, the most striking feature woud be his face, vaguely humanoid yet showing the characteristics of a jackal, with a cold, alien intelligence burning in his emerald eyes. His arms and feet looked more like paws than human appendages, yet blended into his body with natural ease. He gazed first at us with a neutral expression, then when it rested on the crow a grin that contained far too many pointed teeth for my taste graced his face. The crow, which was perched on my shoulder, gazed down at me and stared the being directly in the face. This seemed to amuse the glowing being, and he gazed at Tom first with new interest before gazing at me with a look that could only be described as smug. He then pointed to the much tortured figure of Dumbledore and raised an eyebrow. Without any hesitation we shook our heads in a negatory fashion and instinctively bowed before him. He laughed, a chilling sound that struck some primal chord within us, and with a wicked grin pointed towards the door from whence we came. Not needing any further prompting, we backed out of the room as quickly as humanly possible. After a moment apparently chatting with the strange glowing being, the crow joined us, immediately picking up the statue and allowing the wall to reappear, sealing the entrance flawlessly. We were quite shaken by this turn of events, and after making a portkey for each of us we sped out of there. As we passed by the guard creature the crow took it upon itself to get one last blow in, resulting in some amusing whimpers.

We returned to our modest hotel room, making preparations to head back to Hogwarts and burning through a few bottles of palm wine that we purchased at a local vendor. As I sit here, penning this adventure, the last few words of Harry's entry seem to come back to haunt me. Indeed, I am alive, and absolutely free. We should both take this advice, after all we witnessed first hand a fate far more horrible than anything we could dream. I don't think that we shall reveal Dumbledore's fate to the public at large, but we will inform those who are in our closest circle, the ones that we can trust and have a head on their shoulders. Those screams, as I realized from whom they emanated I did not feel even once ounce of desire to rescue him from that fate. Indeed, I felt a strange sense of satisfaction at this twist of events, once I set aside the mind numbing presence of the being that I can only presume to be Harry's elusive patron. Throughout Harry's narrative, he talks about his patron almost as a buddy or equal, and now that I have met him after a fashion I am in awe of the brass ones that Harry possessed. The power he radiated even eclipsed that of Apep, and she was awe-inspiring.

I find myself too weary to continue with this, and will join Tom and the crow, which are both passed out drunk on the bed, shortly. The Library notwithstanding, I have far too much to think about at the moment, and need to clear my head somewhat. I think we'll extend our vacation, relax and assimilate these events before returning to Hogwarts. I think that getting out of Egypt is mandatory, it's too bloody hot here for one used to the more temperate Scottish climes. We'll see in the morning.


	29. Chapter 28

_Journal entry the twenty eighth_

_By the time you read this entry, I'm sure that you've completed the treasure hunt that I sent you on. Isn't it impressive, Sev? All that knowledge of the ancients right at your fingertips, I know that you will use it properly. I hope Ammut didn't bother you too much, he's a sweetie really if you just tickle him under his one tooth. I'm glad he got to come out and play, he was going stark raving mad trapped in the statue we found him in. I hope Apep was hospitable, she's really a great being to talk to but can be cranky at times. Hell, try spending thousands of years in a dark, dank hole in the middle of the desert and see how cheery you are. I hope you enjoyed your trip, it was the intent after all to get you out and about somewhat. As much as I love Hogwarts, even I feel needs to travel and broaden my horizons. Of course I'm somewhat limited by my constantly deteriorating physical condition, but even taking in the sunrise over the ruins of Karnak (thanks to my port key that I have modified to make it not quite so nauseating to use) is a welcome change at times. _

_The school year is starting to wind down, and conversely exam stress is beginning to rise steadily. I always found the OWLs and NEWTs to be rather inane methods of determining a future career anyway, and more than a little bit degrading. After all, each wizard has different innate levels of power, and to stress such a thing with exams is just plain rude in my opinion. It was rather hard to throw my OWLs like I did, but it wouldn't have for the Golden Boy Gryffindor that seemingly thinks of nothing but trouble and Quidditch to ace every single exam with top marks, regardless of interruptions. Still, playing dumb is really grating. Sylvain has been taking more and more Harry shifts, and he really does make a better Harry Potter than I do. Despite my intentions, he's even appeared in a couple of your potions classes simply because I was feeling far too ill to attend. I wouldn't want to see the results of vomit being added to any standard sixth year potion, but the potion master in me warned that it likely wouldn't be favourable. It just goes to show how skilled Sylvain really is, since he managed to infiltrate your class without a single alarm bell being sounded. Heh, it truly astounds me how much he likes to take forms other than the serpent standard. I asked him about it, and he just grinned and stated that he really liked opposable thumbs and avian flight, not to mention the talons. I can't help but wonder what he's going to do after my demise, there are so many paths open to him at the moment that even I can't predict the outcome. Whatever he does, I hope he's happy, because without such a friend in my life I would have been cold in the ground long ago. _

_You know, I think that people are finally starting to catch on that things are not well in Denmark, figuratively speaking. Amazing, so many normally intelligent people and only now are they starting to notice that things are starting to break out of the nice, comfy little molds set aside from them by the twinkling git himself. The other two parts of the so-called Golden Trio (ye gods I hate that name) are beginning to stare at me (well, Sylvain actually but it's all the same in the end) like I'm some type of pod person, the teachers are starting to walk on tippy-toes, and I would swear that I spotted Dumbles with a nervous tic. Of course, that could be largely due to the cursed socks that are still on his feet. Ah, that lovely prank item has kept me amused on many a night where I could not for some reason go out. Sometimes I would pretend that I could hear his screams all the way down here after plunging the controller of the socks, which acts somewhat like a voodoo doll, in my fire, or sticking it with pins, or letting it pass through the digestive system of a large basilisk, so on, so forth. I passed the concept to the Weasley twins, and they took it and ran, quite successfully so might I add. Ah, if I ever had to pick humans as siblings they would be at the top of the list. I think that they suspect something is up with me, since neither is stupid and together they can deduce with alarming clarity, but they trust me to handle things as I am, knowing that I wouldn't let things go bottoms up if there was anything to be done about it. I can honestly say that they are among the few humans in this life that I have any respect for. Plus, their minds are just about as twisted as my own, which is quite nice to have as a sounding board. Together we've come up with epic prank ideas, and I like to envision that many of the wares that I helped develop for their shop are now best-selling staples of their inventory. Heh, and to drive Filch nuts we came up with a new way to smuggle such wares into the school. Got to keep him on his toes after all, what good is an unwary caretaker?_

_It's rather amusing, the other day Minerva decided to pull me aside on a day where Sylvain was resting to talk to me about my future career plans. It took a good part of my acting skill to refrain from laughing in her face. Of course she wouldn't know why such a question is absolutely hilarious for me, since my future is probably only a couple months long at this point despite divine intervention, but still. What added to my near laughing fit was Ron and Hermione jumping on the bandwagon, pestering me left and right to pick a career so that I would make something of my life. Gee, I suppose eliminating a Dark Lord just isn't enough to ask of a teenager, why not add in a couple of extremely intense guidance counselor wannabes trying to shape me into a good little Harry drone. I'm amazed Sylvain hasn't eaten them by now, really. I wouldn't mind if he did, despite the fact that humans give him wicked indigestion, and it would be nice to have the ambient noise of nagging reduced or eliminated during my few trips to the surface. Oh well, in the meantime I'll content myself by placing many a prank hex on their holier-than-thou selves and enjoy the show. _

_It may seem morbid, but in a strange way I'm looking forward to just getting this all over with. I've been preparing for this moment for a long time now, and I just want it to play out so I can get some rest. Besides, it could just be standard paranoia but I'm starting to get the feeling that perhaps there are other forces at play within this little drama. I'm not worried about any side plots or such, since I'm not getting the feeling that they are working against me, but it's still a bit unnerving. I suppose I can't be aware of every factor within this game, so things should get real interesting. I wonder if I'll be alive to witness the outcome of these plots. Well, one thing I've learned about my life is that nothing is quite what it seems to be. Hm, I've got to kick myself out of the maudlin mood I once again find myself in, I think I'll head out tonight. My fame as a rock star has been growing by leaps and bounds, I've actually been invited to perform in a huge charity concert with Bowie and U2 headlining. The amusing part is that they gave me several comped tickets, and I think that I'll give the tickets to Tom and crew, they deserve some R&R for their valiant efforts to repair the wizarding world the best they can. Plus, I'll order the Jumbo-tron to pick them out of the crowd right at a slightly embarrassing moment. Those things are marvelous, they truly are. Well, off to raise some hell, perhaps literally if my dark mood doesn't lift. _

Since our return to Hogwarts, it's hard to explain but it feels like something has changed ever so subtly. After our Egyptian adventure, Tom and I decided to take some time and tour Greece at a leisurely pace. We most definitely were not ready to return to Hogwarts as soon as we left Luxor, and that additional time with the bonus of breathtaking scenery did wonders to help us come to terms with all of the information that we were presented with. As intelligent as Harry is still proving himself to be, albeit postmortem, I am not surprised that he would figure out that other forces were at work. It is somewhat shocking and disturbing for us, however, since we have direct evidence of such forces in the form of a winged menace. Bloody crow is still guarding that figurine with fervor, and we have long since stopped trying to trick it into giving it up. If there are still plots yet to develop, I almost shudder to think what lays in store for us. After all, Harry did accomplish his goals to the best of our understanding, and his plans went off without a hitch. His part is over, yet someone or something has decided to meddle further towards a goal or goals that we are unfamiliar with. I would usually have faith in Harry's judgment regarding such matters, but I can't shake the image of his truly frightening, otherworldly patron from my mind, as well as the screams of pure agony from my former mentor, no matter how deserving he is of such pain. If that...creature is part of the plan, let alone in league with the crow, then just about anything can happen and as gifted as Harry was at plotting and scheming, such entities are true wild cards.

Upon our return to Hogwarts, we were met with mixed reactions. A good number of our fellow staff members began to rail at us for leaving so abruptly with no notice and no cover for our classes. They promptly shut up when I, without a word, pulled the now infamous journal out of my robe. It's amazing how quickly they disbanded with a surprisingly low amount of muttering, apparently no one wanted to suffer the tender mercies of the master of the Journal. The rest approached us with trepidation and concern, knowing that Tom and I would only leave the school that suddenly if something was afoot. Lucius and Draco were chief among these, so Tom and I pulled them aside and gave them a full account of our travels in Egypt. The mood was accentuated by the feathered fiend itself, which took that opportunity to perch on my shoulder and begin eating something that it must have stolen in Luxor. I seriously hope that it is some type of dried plant matter, but the smell and the distressing flakes on my shoulder dashed those hopes rather quickly. They both paled when hearing about Dumbledore's fate, and they were visibly shaken when Harry's patron was described in vivid detail. As stoic and arrogant as their public personas are, in private company both Malfoys are surprisingly caring and sensitive individuals. It was quite humorous when their gazes kept going between us and the crow with something of a wary respect in their eyes.

With a wry grin, I decided to adjourn to my quarters in order to give them time to assimilate the information and get at least a few glasses of firewhiskey under my belt. As I approached my door, suddenly the crow tensed up to the point where I might have had a statue on my shoulder. It was staring at the door in rapt fascination, not even bothering to bite me when I poked it in the chest, which it absolutely hates. Coming to the conclusion that something was not quite right within my chambers, I checked my security measures only to find them surprisingly intact. I will admit that at this point I did something that would be a bit more typical of a headstrong Gryffindor by opening my door and taking one step in the room. In the past, the crow has pranked me several times but has shown some level of protectiveness over my physical well-being at least, and since it didn't stop me I came to the conclusion that whatever was occurring in my chambers didn't pose an immediate threat. Scanning the room with wand out and ready, I can honestly say that there was no way I could have been prepared for the sight that greeted me. There, sitting in front of the fire in my favourite chair, was the unmistakable figure of Harry's patron, looking exactly as he did during our brief encounter in Egypt. He turned to me and offered a chilling, inhuman grin before draining the crow's bottle of firewhiskey in one long swallow.

Since finding a divinity, no matter how ancient, in one's personal chambers is not a situation covered by most protocols, I immediately, and I hate to say reflexively, bowed as I did in my Death Eater days. He frowned at this and shook his head, standing only to spread out on my couch, gesturing towards the chair. A bit out of my league at this point, I numbly headed towards my chair and sat, much to his approval. I began to speak at this point, extending my greetings, but from the confused and frustrated expression on his face it occurred to me that perhaps he didn't speak english, or even any modern language. Instead he tapped his temple with one clawed digit and gave me the canine equivalent of a wink. After a moment's hesitation, I came to the conclusion that it would be far riskier to my health to refuse opening up a hole in my shields than to do so. I was surprised to learn that he could not physically speak at all due to insufficient vocal chords, and rather than words or coherent ideas I was bombarded with emotions. It would seem that he is an empath, and wished to convey his intentions by the most direct method possible. Ultimately, it seemed that he was curious about the humans that the crow brought to see him, and wished to take a tour of the place that his ally was so fond of. It was quite intriguing that his attitude towards Harry was not that of an inferior, but an equal. Either he was being generous with his respect of Harry, or our dear reincarnated Founder had power to rival Anubis himself. Both thoughts are rather disturbing, and I can't honestly say which I would prefer.

At this point, the crow seemed to snap itself out of its stupor and, noticing the empty bottle, puffed up and perched at the end of the couch, cawing loud enough to raise the dead. I think all the blood left my face at that moment. Fortunately, it would seem that the relationship between the two is more complex than I originally thought, because the former god actually had the grace to look sheepish and chagrined during the scolding. With a sigh and shake of my head, I stood and retrieved another bottle from my private stash, setting it on the table well within the crow's line of sight. The resulting absence of hellish cawing was more than worth the cost of the bottle. Of course, the bird immediately landed on the table and began attacking the sealing wax with gusto, in its haste almost knocking the bottle over. I'm sure I rolled my eyes as I grabbed the bottle and deftly opened it, pouring a healthy amount in the glass that I usually keep out for myself. My other guest grinned widely at our interaction, and I swear that he was chuckling silently. Feeling a headache coming on, I stood to get a headache potion from my cupboard only to be stopped by a paw-like hand on my wrist. Staring at me for a second with an inquisitive look, he stood and gently touched my temple, which through some means eliminated my headache entirely.

We were still standing there when someone began knocking at my door. Knowing that it could only be a few individuals who would come to see me at this time, I began to head over to the door only to be stopped by the former god who now wore an expression of pure mischief. Not wishing to anger my seemingly mercurial guest, I sat back down and grinned to myself, anticipating the various reactions that would happen in the next few minutes. After staring at the doorknob for a second, he opened the door wide, revealing himself in his full, half-naked animalistic glory with a grin that exposed a good number of sharper than usual teeth. Promptly I heard a couple thuds that sounded remarkably like unconscious bodies hitting the stone floor. Curiousity getting the better of me, I stood and went to inspect the damage, only to begin laughing at the sight presented to me. It would seem that both Malfoys not only fainted at the sight before them, but they landed in extremely undignified and somewhat perverted positions. Tom was the only one still upright, but I could tell that such wasn't going to be the case for much longer. After escorting Tom in and setting him down in my chair, I turned around to see to the Malfoys only to notice that my guest had already taken care of that situation, albeit in a very sick and depraved way. With a look of pure mischief and glee, it would seem that the former god took it upon himself to strip them both down to their underwear and decided to use their fair skin as a canvas for what I presume to be graffiti done in ancient hieroglyphs. Whatever it said, it was enough to send him into fits of laughter. Shaking my head, I took it upon myself to explain the situation to Tom, and I must say that after his initial shock he was taking the news better than I at first.

After seemingly getting bored playing with the Malfoys, my imp-like guest decided to sprawl out on my couch once more, making himself quite comfortable and grinning at the now drunk crow that decided to join in the Malfoy torture. When they came to, needless to say there was much hilarious confusion and overreactions that even sent Tom into fits of laughter. After a quick explanation, they both fled my quarters with surprising speed, I suppose wanting to be as far away from Harry's snarky, mischievous, prank-prone patron as humanly possible. I wouldn't be surprised if they port-keyed to some distant location. Tom took that cue to take his own leave for the night, bowing his head respectfully to the still-grinning former god before offering me a sympathetic smile. Left alone once more with a drunk bird and a grinning god, I stifled a yawn so as not to be rude but my guest immediately picked up on my fatigue and, after a bow of his head eerily similar to the one Tom offered him, waved towards the bedroom and pointed at me, clearly indicating that he would not mind if I retired for the night. Raising an eyebrow towards my unexpected houseguest, he patted the couch and grinned, and pointed at the stumbling bird with a somewhat evil smirk. Shaking my head with a smile forming on my lips, I decided to take such a chance to escape the somewhat surreal situation playing itself out in my living room. I knew that there was a good chance that rest would elude me, but since tomorrow is a Saturday I can afford the ill rest. Besides, it would give me time to try to figure out how exactly we were going to keep such a creature entertained. I can only presume that it was starting to get bored playing around with Dumbledore, either that or we just presented too entertaining a chance to escape. I suppose that even former gods need a vacation once in a while, and once more I find myself playing host to a strange, otherworldly, prank-prone creature with sociopathic tendencies and communication issues. I just have all the luck it seems. At least neither seem to intend any real harm, although judging from the harsh treatment of those that Harry deemed traitors it would seem that such reservation and respect is only given to those that Harry was at least fond of in some way.

Tomorrow should be interesting, to say the least. I have the eerie feeling that I will become the tour guide for my esteemed guest, which will be quite tricky as I have to make a trip to the Alleys for a few more supplies and to pick up a shipment that I have been waiting for. I somehow don't think that I want to leave either prankish individual alone in Hogwarts, let alone together, so my entourage should be quite entertaining tomorrow. At least it is doubtful that the excursion will make it into the papers since I imagine that very few people would wish to potentially anger a seven foot half-jackal ancient being with unknown powers. The papers are even starting to become wary of the crow, so if they were teamed up together the awe and fear inspired would be enough to keep such annoying nuisances off of my back for the meantime. It should be interesting, to say the least. In the meantime, I shall try to sleep despite the noises coming from my living room and the memories that Harry stirred once more. I think I'm actually starting to believe that things are not quite what they seem, either that or the pesky hope rubbed off on me. It's been so long since I felt hope that I'm surprised I recognize the condition. Perhaps, just perhaps, the two creatures currently trashing my quarters have something to do with this feeling. Things will seem clearer in the morning.


	30. Chapter 29

_Journal entry the twenty-ninth_

_The endgame is nigh, and I have made an executive decision. I no longer have the time or energy to waste interacting with my supposed peers in Hogwarts, so I will no longer make any appearances as Harry Potter within these halls. Yes, this will tip some of my hand to Dumbles and his cronies, but the ends will more than justify the means. As slow as they are to figure things out, by the time they suspect even a fraction of my agenda I will be long gone, so I'm not worried about any potential meddling. I'm still going to reside in my Chamber, and use the resources of the school, but my interactions with humans will be severely limited. I'll still likely walk these halls in some type of disguise, losing myself in my memories has been something of a pasttime of late, but the name of Harry Potter has outlived its usefulness. I almost feel like I shed my skin after making this decision, it's as if a huge weight has been removed from my shoulders and I am simply the being that I am. I feel oddly refreshed as I resume my primary identity of Salazar, too much baggage came with the other. It's just as well, Sylvain has been having almost too much fun in Harry guise. So far he's absolutely tormented Ron and Hermione to the point where their true colours are starting to be revealed, cast a wicked acne hex on the rest of Gryffindor house save a lucky few, and seems to take special delight in messing with Draco's head. From what I hear, he cornered Draco and slapped him, snogged him, giggled at him, messed up his hair, and then flipped him off merrily skipping away, all in that order with witnesses. Oh, the rumour mill is having a field day with it, and I find it funny as hell. What do I care what Harry Potter does, I cut all ties with that name anyway, and if Sylvain can have some fun in these times so much the better. _

_While Sylvain's been having fun, I've been taking some time for myself as of recently. Seeing as I never really traveled much in this life, I decided that I would hit some of the spots that I've always wanted to go. My time in Paris was exhilarating, the last time I saw that city it was just a few hovels with a couple impressive buildings. Fortunately the language hasn't changed too terribly much over the years, and as I wandered around the city a sense of utter and complete freedom enveloped me. It was the first time in seemingly forever that I did something not to further my own plans or help others, but just because I wanted to. I'm sure I made quite a sight, wandering around town giggling to myself like a madman and playing a twisted version of hopscotch around the many piles of dog shite on the sidewalks. Rather than get a room, I would just change into my animagus and curl up in a secluded park. One time when I woke up I found several children climbing on me, giggling and playing while parents took their pictures. I let them play on me until they got tired, I would never harm children after all, and I can only imagine if the parents returned to that park the next day only to find the huge silvery, curled up snake statue missing and telltale tracks left behind. _

_After finishing my role as playground equipment, I took in a full day and night in the Louvre, which was fantastic. Now, you may wonder why I said night, well, one day is simply not enough and I hate crowds, so with a bit of carefully applied magic I rendered myself invisible to the guards, cameras, and sensors and be allowed to enjoy the works of art in peace and quiet. It was a surreal experience, on one hand I was surrounded by priceless old masterpieces that appealed to my artistic side, yet I kept flashing back to when this was once just an empty stretch of land overlooking the Seine. Not to mention that most of the collection is far younger than I, which amuses me to no end. I must admit, I didn't exactly hold my usual Slytherin dignity during my Louvre experience. Ever see the movie Risky Business, Sev? If not, check it out. If you have, well, it felt fun to run and slide around the Louvre à la Tom Cruise, complete with music. It was just too great, being in this venerable former palace that is younger than I and having complete autonomy. The ancient Egyptian collection was perhaps my favourite, due largely to my patron's influence I suspect, and I wonder if they'll ever discover that I snitched a few amulets and trinkets of power from the various exhibits. Of course I transfigured replacements, but they don't feel the same. For that matter, they probably never realized that the winged Nike has a secret compartment that could only be opened by magic, which contained a very rare type of chaos talisman. Well, what they won't know won't hurt them after all. Not like a bunch of humans would be able to appreciate the true mischief this talisman could incur when invoked. Old habits die hard, I suppose, but it pains me to see such objects of power go wasted and unappreciated by the unwashed masses. _

_Despite my almost nonexistent appetite, I believe that I ate more during my trip than I have in a long time. It was a bit of a surprise to discover that I had a gourmand side, but once I stumbled into a small bakery at 4 am with those heavenly aromas of bread and pastries, I was done for. I think it must have been the change of scenery, but it's enough to make me want to commute to and from Paris just for meals. Hell, I would make the trip just for this one crèpe stand near the Notrè Dame de Paris, where the crèpes were made fresh to order and filled with enough Nutella to choke a horse. Heavenly, especially in the brisk hours of the early morning when most of the city still sleeps. For lunches, which I actually indulged in, I adored the many tiny cafés with their prix fixe menus, which were perfect for me since if I actually had to consider the many choices I would likely lose interest or my fleeting and temperamental appetite entirely. _

_I felt so invigorated after my whimsical trip that those pesky feelings of hope began to manifest once more. Hm, perhaps I should just surrender to them, my intuition hasn't failed me yet, and such flashes are occurring with regularity now. I know that Sylvain is up to something now, even if I can't read his natural body language very well I can certainly read what used to be my own form, and something is definitely up. My spidey-sense isn't tingling, however, so I think that I will show faith in my friend and let him do whatever he will. As paranoid about my health and well-being as he is, I can't imagine that he would do anything to hurt me, it would be drastically out of character. Perhaps my hopeful flashes are tied into whatever his plans are, which would be interesting to say the least. Well, time will tell I suppose, and now it's back to working on my non-nausea inducing portkey so I might in fact be able to take my meals in style. Ta, Sev._

Five empty bottles of firewhiskey, one broken, newly pink endtable, a temporarily sentient fire poker, several shredded pillows, one stumbling drunk bird fighting with said poker, and a snow cone machine. This is the sight that greeted me once I entered my living quarters. And to think, I thought that waking up to a drunk former god wearing a pink frilly tutu passing out and falling on the bed while I lay in it was my dose of strangeness for the morning. Of course, since he fell partially on my formerly sleeping frame, I was pinned until he finally shifted. I wish I hadn't been proven wrong. I don't think my quarters can take another time span where the crow and the god are left to their own devices. I don't even think Hogwarts could take it. That meant that I had no choice today but to take my guests on my various errands, which was a rather interesting choice ultimately.

After straightening up what I could and forcing both to drink sobering potions, I shrunk a few headache potions in anticipation of the days events and took stock of what I needed to accomplish this day. Due to my vacation of sorts, there were many potions that needed to be restocked not only for Hogwarts but for several other private buyers, which meant that I needed more supplies. After that, I was going to return and curl up with a good book, or further some research I've been meaning to catch up on, but it would be a very, very bad idea to let the Terrible Two get bored. Since neither seem to like any type of structured plan, I figured that the rest of the day would be spent getting Anubis situated in this part of the world, so as terrifying as the thought was I decided to let him choose the rest of the day's itinerary. I was not going to raise any type of fuss over the former god's attire, since I wasn't quite willing to extend my hospitality to my limited but decent wardrobe, but it would seem that my guest took it in his own paws to do some rummaging during the night and emerged from my bedroom wearing a version of the outfit that Harry wore on his album cover. He still easily topped seven feet, but now he was clad in impossibly tight, low riding leather pants and a short, open black vest emblazoned with egyptian hieroglyphs. His ebony hair was lengthened enough to tie back save for a couple ear-tails, and his features were almost human in form now, sharp and angular but not as animalistic as before. His eyes and skin were about the only features unchanged, and he concealed his eyes with a pair of green-tinted eyeglasses that were among the personal effects left to me by Harry that I had yet to really sort through. He was barefoot, but the rest of him was more than distracting enough to gloss over that little detail. Besides, I didn't think that anyone would be bold enough to call him on it.

After standing there gaping for a few minutes, I snapped out of it and sneered at the smirking god, indicating that it was time to head out. As usual, the crow decided to sink its talons into my shoulder for a free ride, and the smirking, occasionally laughing god followed, turning more than a few heads as we strode through the corridors of Hogwarts heading for the apparation site. More than once the god stopped and would stare at a wall, painting, or statue with intense interest before rushing to catch up with us, which piqued my curiousity somewhat but I left such things on the back burner. My first priority was to survive the day with something of my pride intact. I know, high expectations. As it was, we didn't even get out of the castle before the duo inflicted some havoc, namely on my poor godson. I'm actually starting to pity him somewhat, I think that they like to prank him just to see the blush spread on that pale skin. Or perhaps the sounds that he makes. In addition to the fainting Malfoy, it would seem that most of the female population and at least a third of the male population of Hogwarts are now lusting over my houseguest. I'm not sure whether to pity them, laugh in their faces, or let them learn the hard way. True, the god did look like sex on the hoof, as it were, but I would expect more composure from Minerva. She actually spilled her pumpkin juice on her lap when she spotted us walking briefly through the Great Hall on our way out. I know that my guest was aware of such, that all-knowing smug smirk had returned to his features. I will swear on anything provided that the bloody bird was chuckling at its partner's antics. All this before we even left the school, and already it would seem that I would not be able to keep my one goal and emerge relatively unscathed.

Upon our arrival in Diagon Alley, which was memorable to start with since Anubis didn't apparate like wizards, and instead popped out of a portal pouncing straight at me, knocking us to the ground, things really started to pick up. Despite the clearing of my name and such, there are still a good number of wizards throughout Britain who still view me as a foul traitor and Death Eater scum. I have long learned to ignore or hex these fools, but it was poor luck on their parts that a few encountered us on our way to a supplier on Knocturne Alley. I will confess that I have relaxed my guard somewhat in these peaceful times, but I did detect their presence and manage to deflect many of the hexes aimed at me. Unfortunately for them, a leg-locking hex managed to penetrate my defenses and brought me to the ground with the sneering, ignorant wizards approaching. I don't know why they didn't spot my companions at first, it's not like either of them is inconspicuous in any way, shape, or form, but such was the case. They stopped when they heard a low growling that, oddly enough, was coming from above their heads. As one, they turned and witnessed what an ancient deity looks like when severely pissed off. It would seem that, as much as they love to embarrass me and destroy my property, both crow and god are rather protective of my well-being. Even I felt a tremor of fear when I saw the glint of pure rage in his completely emerald, slitted eyes, and once my attackers had their "Oh, shit" moment they all tried to run. Emphasis on tried, since Anubis froze their feet in place. He then approached me and offered me his hand to stand up after I negated the hex myself, and once he checked me over to make sure I was alright he turned back to my poor, unlucky attackers and grinned. I hope I never see that grin directed at myself or anyone I care for. From what I can deduce, it seems that in retaliation he let down a few of his shields and broadcast images and memories of his own into their heads, driving them completely and likely permanently mad. All this within five minutes of stepping foot in the Alleys. Joy. Rapture.

Once I finally made my potions purchases with only one incident regarding a shop that sold bits and pieces of ancient mummies, I sorely needed a break at this time and decided that perhaps discovering Florean's ice cream would divert their attentions for a few sorely needed minutes of down time. I suppose that it is an unlikely event that an ancient god would walk into a store selling bits that he helped embalm to some degree and become personally offended by the ordeal, but the shopkeep should have been more discreet with such illicit and illegal items. Florean's, much to my surprise, did the trick for all of ten glorious minutes. I had to keep from laughing hysterically as the god reacted to the ice cream much like a little kid does for the first time, first gazing at all the colours and flavours in rapt fascination, and then once a flavour had been chosen the required first lick and look of amazement, followed by a goofy grin and rather messy outcome. All this transpired with my guest, except his appetite is far more than a child's, and he has no shame whatsoever. As hilarious as it was to see this statuesque god with an upside down ice cream tub on his head making loud slurping sounds with the crow snickering nearby, the resulting sugar rush will likely be remembered by generations of Alley patrons. Not a single display went unmolested, and he moved with uncanny speed, a veritable pranking tornado. Downing a headache potion promptly, I decided it would be best to leave the Alley for now before he ended up destroying wizarding life as we know it.

Once I gathered up the still twitching, fidgeting deity, a cruel smirk crossed my own face as I realized that there was perhaps one place where a hyper, prank prone god might be not only welcomed, but enthusiastically so. With that thought, we were off to visit the Weasley twins at their newly opened Hogsmeade branch of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. Since I began reading the journal and having realized how high of esteem that Harry held them in, I made an effort to keep in contact with the twins, and we have developed a sort of friendship. This being said, I led my party into the shop knowing that Fred and George were there that day and called them down. They rushed in once they realized that the infamous crow was with me, but stopped in their tracks when they saw the still twitching god. I explained the situation to them, finishing with his affinity for pranks and current sugar rush, and after glancing at each other they wore identical enthusiastic grins. I told them that he likely understood some english but was unable to speak it, so they began demonstrating their wares, both on the shelves and those in experimental stages. The crow and I contented ourselves with watching the gleeful expressions on all three faces as they demonstrated pranks on each other. Somehow Anubis managed to find a parchment and quill and began writing in perfect Latin, a language I wasn't aware that he knew, sharing ideas with the twins. After a few such ideas, they began looking up at him with such awe and respect that I wouldn't be surprised if they build some sort of shrine to him or adopt him as their own patron. The crow and I shared a look, the idea must have crossed our minds at the same time, and while we shook our heads we shared a smirk at what lay in store for any future prankers and prankees. Despite my general animosity for the Weasley family, I always appreciated the twins, not only for their intelligence which regrettably only showed in topics that interested them but for the fact that their pranks never did any serious, lasting harm, and were meant in good fun rather than sheer maliciousness. Even though the event was ultimately staged, I still don't think I could be civil to Black after his twisted 'prank' with Lupin and I. The twins are an entirely different story, and they certainly make life interesting, perhaps moreso after this meeting of the minds. Seeing as they were quite deep into their research, the crow and I took our leave after first stating our intentions to the god to run a couple more errands while they brainstormed. I restocked my supply of firewhiskey, which of course my feathered partner in crime aided me with, as well as purchasing a decent supply of chocolate from Honeydukes, which I confess is a weakness of mine. After the ice cream incident I learned that Anubis simply doesn't like chocolate, so perhaps my supply will remain unmolested.

When we returned, they were still going on, testing out their pranking ideas on each other and having quite a time, although I could tell that the twins were starting to lose some steam, which isn't surprising considering how intense the presence of the former god still is. He picked up on this as well, and with a glance we agreed to return to Hogwarts seeing as it was about time for supper. Taking our leave, we began walking towards Hogwarts, with my guest still seemingly under a bit of a sugar high. Rather than walking, he decided to run ahead of us and lay in wait, pouncing out at random intervals albeit in a playful fashion. Upon our return to Hogwarts, it was discovered that somewhere along the way he had lost his vest, and was now clad solely in the bordering-on-obscene pants and tinted glasses, which didn't bother him in the least. Of course, I think that wearing the clothes bothered him more than not wearing them, if he got the whim I'm sure he would walk around completely naked and be at ease. It would be flattering to think that he wore clothes out of respect for my sensibilities, but I have a problem believing him to be that altruistic.

Anyway, he was very excited about eating a meal in the Great Hall, and I got the feeling that he spent much time conversing with Harry about it. With a roll of the eyes, we threw open the doors and I strode forward to take my customary seat at the Heat Table. The crow of course rode with me, and the third member of our odd little party decided to play the sexy role to the hilt, following me with a sensual glide and self-possession about him that automatically drew the eye of everyone save for myself and the crow, since we had acquired something of an immunity to his dubious charms. He approached the end table and, with a wicked grin, lept over the table to land in a vacant chair next to me, stretching his long legs out on the table and looking for all the world like the cat that just got the cream. With an exasperated sigh that has almost become a catchphrase of mine, I smirked at the room that is still gazing at us in rapt attention and signaled the house elves to begin serving. They were offering a lovely roast chicken that night, and much to our amusement the crow began cawing like mad at a house elf demanding a plate for itself. Despite my attempt to show the god how to use the utensils provided, he ate his portion very gracefully with one hand, making his movements slow and languorous just to tease the many people still watching his every movement. It took a good amount of willpower to not laugh at them, but I could see that Anubis was enjoying himself immensely and it was not costing me any furniture or alcohol. After an entire meal where he somehow managed to make every bite he took a sensual gesture, he suddenly stood and bowed his head to me, indicating that he wished to continue a tour of Hogwarts. This action on his part set the rumor mill afire, I'm sure, because in one fell swoop not only did he indicate that we knew each other but that I was, in a way, his guide in this part of the world and generally in charge. In addition to his pranking streak, he has something of a tendency towards the dramatic it would seem.

Leaving the Great Hall, I began to take him on a tour of Hogwarts, describing everything in latin for his benefit, and we were walking along a rarely used corridor when he suddenly stopped in front of a painting, staring at a spot of wall next to it with intense focus. Before I could inquire, he reached out and pressed a stone of the wall in, revealing a previously unknown secret passage. Of course he plunged immediately into it, not needing any light to show his way, and I think only my shouted exclamation slowed him down so that I could follow, lighting my wand as we made our way through the passage and down at least one flight of stairs. We came abruptly to a seeming dead end, and here he made a frustrated sound as he began searching for some way through the wall. I was a bit confused as to his urgency, so I asked him why he was so agitated. He looked at me with a strange, sad look in his eyes, and he sent me feelings of loss and recognition. From the images I managed to collect, and his previous role, I felt a cold grip on my heart as I realized what exactly lay somewhere on the other side of the wall. Placing a hand on his shoulder, I told him that I knew what he was looking for, and I knew another path.

In a daze, I led him to the chamber where Harry left all those documents for me and tilted the chair back once more. His normally jovial nature was rather subdued by this point, and I can tell that he memorized every step we took. As we stood in front of the door, I suddenly couldn't bring myself to open it, and Anubis laid a steadying hand on my shoulder, offering his support when he sensed how difficult it was for me to be down there. We opened the door, and the change in his demeanor was dramatic. Gone was the jester, and taking his place was a solemn being that one could easily believe was worshiped long ago. As I stood braced against the wall, he walked around each sarcophagi, examining the work with a critical eye before stopping at Salazar's. Here, he cocked his head to the side and let his hand trace the lettering and carving on the lid before gazing at me with an inscrutable look. As I saw him leaning over the sarcophagi, it was easy to remember that he was a God of the Dead, as well as of embalming. Lingering far longer over Salazar's sarcophagus than the others, he finally looked at me with a sad, yet comforting gleam in his eyes and together we took our leave of that chamber.

Rather than continue our tour, he led me back to my own quarters, as distraught as I was, and together we sat in front of the fire, a bottle of firewhiskey for each, and he looked at me with an understanding look. It might have been the firewhiskey, his empathy, or just the roller-coaster day we had but I found myself talking to him, telling him things that I have only before written in this journal, and many other things besides. I think he actually shed a tear when I related the tale of the Founders, from start to end. It was refreshing to get a lot of things off my chest by talking to someone who I knew would not judge me, and I was so tired by the end that I fell asleep in my chair, glass of firewhiskey still in my hand. I cannot fathom at this moment why he was so obsessed with finding the resting place of the Founders, but some motive must lurk in his brain, and I can only trust that he knows what he is doing. I can tell that he is apologetic for causing me such distress, for he ultimately carried me to my bed that night, and when I woke up things were pretty much in the same state, except the snow cone machine was now working and they got a vast jug of red flavouring that was now more than half gone, which did not bode well considering the sugar content. Before I sat down to write this, he actually laid a breakfast out for me despite the sugar rush-induced twitching, and I can tell that he has something up his metaphorical sleeve for me to raise my spirits today. I can only hope some of my dignity is spared, but somehow I doubt it. We'll have to see, I suppose.

Before I end this entry, I would like to say that despite his choice of identity, I will continue to refer to him as Harry, because for me Salazar is resting in a stone sarcophagus some levels below our feet. I can't reconcile the vibrant image of the man I have gotten to know with the dead founder resting in his stone prison, I simply cannot. I can only hope that Harry would understand such a dilemma. I'm sure he would.


	31. Chapter 30

_Journal entry the thirtieth_

_I never realized before how much time I was spending in the Harry Potter role until I stepped down from it. Quite astonishing, even though I thought I had cut back dramatically, I now have far more free time than I did before. Not that I'm complaining, mind you. Now that I've perfected my nausea-free portkey (which, if you're interested, should be somewhere among my effects), a whole new realm of possibilities has opened up. I'm done with the ritual preparation, finally, and since all I can do is wait for my death to become imminent, I might as well have some fun with travel. Ah, I wish you were at my side for these exploits Sev, I would love to take you around the world, wining and dining you shamelessly. I could just imagine the fear we could strike into the heart of every snotty reception desk clerk and inept waiter. We would never have a problem getting more towels, I bet._

_You may wonder why I'm delaying the ritual that I have worked so long and hard for, especially since I've talked about just getting it all over with. Well, with that deadline out of the way, I sat down and realized that I shouldn't be rushing into death when I still have time, however brief, in this world. For the first time, I have no real obligations to fill my time until my grand finale, and the freedom is heady. Among other things, I've agreed to perform as part of a benefit concert with a slew of other headliners, including Bowie, Elton John, and Aerosmith. Personally, I wasn't aware that my fame had spread, but my one and only album has become an underground, file-sharing sensation to the point that even the bootlegs are hotly pursued. It's highly amusing for me, since my primary function as a rock star was to feed off of them like a psychic vampire. Now they're begging for it. Once the announcement was made that I had agreed to the benefit concert (at Bowie's insistence), tickets sold out in half an hour. Before the announcement, only about forty percent of tickets were accounted for. Since this will likely be my last performance, at least that I'm aware of, I plan to give them a show that they will remember for all time. Unlike most of the performers, I'm scheduled several times throughout the concert, with several duets and a few solos. Because of the incredible ticket sales, I was given the honour of performing the last song of the night, after the big group finale, which came as something of a shock. I know the perfect song to perform, it's an original that I just wrote entitled Sacrifice, and this will likely be the first and last time this song is performed. That seems like a fitting note to end on, and with a bit of carefully applied magic to boost the special effects I have planned I will likely leave them speechless. The concert will take place near and among some ancient Roman ruins just outside of Rome itself, and it promises to be one hell of a night for all involved. _

_Before I blow their minds, I have some time before the concert with which I can tramp around a bit and enjoy myself. After taking my morning repast in Paris this morning, I decided to venture south out of sheer curiousity and found myself ultimately sitting in a tiny bakery near the Ponte Vecchio in the breathtakingly gorgeous city of Firenze, or Florence. Right now, as I write this, I am seated on a cliff nearby gazing out at the panorama of the city, highlighted beautifully by the setting sun. It almost looks as if the sky is on fire, taking the city with it, and as tired and jaded as I am it still takes my breath away. Odd that I feel so at peace here, I never really spent much time in Northern Italy before, if you don't count the occasional mad dash away from superstitious villagers. I snuck in late at night to view Fra Angelico's stunning works in the San Marco without the annoying press of tourists, and it was an unbelievable experience to sit there by candlelight and gaze at such striking images in a place that positively radiates serenity. As much as I love Hogwarts and my own native Scotland, I never realized how badly I needed to travel far, far away for my own piece of mind every so often. Ah, inspiration for yet another time-delay spell just struck, but don't worry, this one isn't a prank. A later one will be, but you my dear are perhaps the only being immune from such events. Getting back to what I was pondering, I have toured the many fantastic shops here and I believe that I have found a few souvenirs that I think you would appreciate. After you finish reading this entry, the package will appear. Enjoy in good health Sev, you deserve to be pampered somewhat. _

_I'm not sure where I will go and what I will do once I leave Florence, but I think I'll just follow my feet, as I used to long ago, and see where they take me. Not since my carefree Bardic days have I been able to do so on a whim. Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed my life immensely after those days ended, but nostalgia would ever so often rear it's ugly head. Occasionally at Hogwarts, when my friends would witness my wanderlust begin to kick in they would cover my classes gladly while I indulged it, but I would always rush back to rejoin them because I missed their company too much. Now, I have no such longing. As much as I miss my friends, I know that they are forever out of my reach, and the few I do care about in this incarnation either don't currently reciprocate my feelings or are rather independent in and of themselves, such as Sylvain. He's happy that I am taking some time for myself, somehow perfectly balancing worry for my well-being, trust that I know what I'm doing, and respect for my desires. I hope that you get to meet him at some point Sev, he's one of the best persons that I have ever met. Don't go looking for a great big basilisk, however. Since he enjoys taking other forms so much, I gave him a talisman that I, ahem, 'acquired' during my early days as Sal that enables him to change shape and mass at will, with a translation charm thrown in for good measure. I think it's called a Chameleon charm or some such thing, it's been a while, but for some reason it's designed so that only those with reptilian blood can use it. That is rather pointless in my mind, since most reptiles, especially the smarter species such as serpents and lizards, take such enormous pride in their natural state that the thought of changing it, even at will, is anathema. I suppose that, somewhere down the line, someone thought it was a good idea, but I'm sure they never imagined that it would be put to such use. I gave it to Sylvain as a Yule present, and the gleam in his eyes, combined with the evil grin/smirk, let me know that it was the best gift I could have given him. _

_It's getting dark out now, and the chill is starting to seep into my bones, so I think I will return to my hotel room for just a moment to warm up before heading out again. I heard of this one touristy nightclub called Space Electronica that I might venture into, simply for the sole reason that I have developed a taste for freaking out the normals, especially boorish tourists. Never mind that I am myself a tourist here, for I do not act like such and picked up the local accent well enough that even the shopkeepers think I'm a native Florentine. If I tire of such things, I've heard of a few Irish pubs scattered around, and even a Scottish one that would be interesting to investigate. Hm, it's been a while since I've included a prank within this text, hasn't it. I have a wonderful idea, I'm just not sure whom the target will be. Well, when in doubt, prank them all. I think I'll give you the power once more for this lovely little prank Sev darling, have as much fun as you dare. Ah, the sun is now completely set and the abundant sounds have changed towards the nocturnal, so I shall end this entry now before the chill sets in, for once that happens it takes me forever to warm back up. As I scare the tourists and frustrate many horny italian men and women, I shall raise a glass and toast not only your lovely self, Sev, but all the friends that I have known in my long life. Cheers._

True to his word, as soon as I finished reading this entry a package appeared, and for once it wasn't flying at my head or some other body part. This time, it decided to pop into existence on my side table, which just happened to be where the crow was taking a brief nap. It is quite a sight to watch a bird curse out an inanimate object. In a fit of curiousity, I decided to test a hypothesis of mine regarding the crow's identity, taking advantage of its distracted state. The reaction, once I called out his name, was priceless. He just froze there, staring at me for a minute before adopting his own version of my smirk and making a mocking bow. I can honestly say I wasn't surprised by this outcome, and I'm grateful that he didn't decide to start pecking out my eyes or some such activity. After showing him that this revelation would not change how I had been treating him, and that I would not reveal his identity, he laughed that annoying, screechy bird laugh of his and started attacking the package anew. Of course, the rather loud cawing woke up my other houseguest, who as I found out prefers to sleep in the nude. This would not be such an issue if he had not been passed out on my couch in the sitting room, in full view of any guests that might come to call. I do not dare to comment on it, in fact I might be able to use the situation for my own amusement. Should a caller arrive, such as Tom or the Malfoys, I shall pretend that there is not a naked, usually drunk and passed out god sleeping on the couch with legs splayed apart and head thrown back over the arm. I am grateful that I have somehow developed an immunity to such things to the point where I don't even bat an eye anymore, otherwise I would be completely gray and likely in a padded cell in St. Mungo's.

Opening the box, once the paper wrapping had been completely shredded by the crow, I was surprised to find a wonderful selection of scented soaps, creams, and extracts of rare plants for potions that are almost impossible to find anymore. The scents wafting up, sandalwood with vanilla, almond, and other woodsy notes, were exactly to my own tastes and rather expertly chosen. I am impressed anew with his observation skills, to watch someone close enough to learn their tastes in such things shows a level of skill and dedication that I certainly can appreciate. The amber and sandalwood shampoo looks to be interesting, I will likely try it later tonight. Among the gifts, I found a strange looking white box, about palm sized, with a big red button right in the middle that states "Do Not Push" and a note attached. Reading the note, it seems that this is the activating device for the prank that Harry developed, relying on the theory that the surest way for a villain to destroy the world would be to connect everything to a big red button within public reach with such a cautionary statement, for it would likely get pushed almost immediately. As amusing as the thought is, an idea likely twisted enough to do honour to Harry has crossed my brain. Rather than push the button myself, I decided to offer it to my still-groggy houseguest, telling him what Harry has done with it and that it should be activated in a group of people. Studying the device intently, he suddenly grinned and winked at me, tossing the device back to me and gesturing at the three of us, giving me the impression that he wanted us all to participate in the prank. For the first time, I returned his impish grin with my own smirk, and after a moment of surprise he was greatly amused.

After an impressively long and almost cat-like stretch, my guest decided to investigate the status of my kitchen stores. Not finding whatever he was looking for, he made a strange grunt sound and started to head for the door, likely with the thought of raiding the much more varied kitchen stores of Hogwarts. Normally I would have let him go, following him discreetly to ensure that he didn't get lost and run amok in the school, but that situation never featured him completely starkers. I protested his immediate departure, waving towards the clothes he wore the previous day, which he responded to with the look that many young kids adopt when confronted with a food they despise. Stifling a giggle, I was about to insist once more when inspiration struck. Taking his leather pants, I quickly transfigured them into an older-style kilt and held it up for his inspection. He looked at it a bit askew until realization struck and with a grin he grabbed the kilt out of my hands and put it on right in front of my door. This would have been of no consequence, except of course that happened to be the exact time that none other than Lucius Malfoy decided to open said door to enter my quarters. Caught in a pose that still revealed more skin than it covered, the former god offered Lucius a wide grin and friendly wave, which prompted him to back away from the door and run as if the hounds of hell were after him. Shaking my head in amusement, I rolled my eyes and sighed in mock exasperation. I seem to be doing such a lot as of late. Finally he managed to put the kilt in properly, after a few false starts, and it's almost uncanny how well the tartan suited him. With yet another trademark evil-ish grin, he nodded towards the door and our own merry band of misfits headed out the door, after first restocking my headache potions of course.

Somehow, we managed to reach the kitchens without a major incident, although there were a couple close calls regarding the status of his kilt remaining properly arranged. Considering the rather lustful stares directed his way, however, I'm not sure that the populace would entirely mind him walking around starkers. Once we had reached our destination, the former god actually offered the house elves a semi-formal bow and apparently projected images of what he wanted, which resulted in the house elves bringing out a massive side of beef. I'm still not sure how he managed to devour the entire thing, bones and all, in under a minute and somehow not making a mess of any sort. With a satisfied look on his face, he winked at me and gestured in the general vicinity of the Great Hall, the now infamous pranking twinkle present in his gleaming eyes. Holding up the device Harry sent, the crow and the god exchanged a look of sheer pranking malice and both nodded simultaneously. Seeing that I was outnumbered, not to mention morbidly curious about what this incident would entail, I nodded in response and we shared smirks before leaving the kitchens, crow perched on my shoulder as the god and I walked side-by-side, and I bit back a laugh when he tried to imitate my trademark robe-billowing walk with mixed results.

By the time we reached the Hall, he managed to mimic my stride passably, which apparently created quite the memorable scene. Leading the way, we managed to get to the Head Table without a major incident. Quite casually, I took the device out of my robes as the house elves were serving us breakfast and set it casually on the table. No one noticed until the god picked up the device, pretending as if he had never seen it before, and pretended to claw at it as if trying to dissect the poor thing. This started to draw some attention, since even postmortem Harry has managed to make almost every person within the school more than a bit paranoid, but all eyes were to us when the crow started to caw madly, making gestures with his wings as if trying to argue with the god. Of course, I decided to play along and tried to break up the mock argument, which led to the device being flung out of the god's hand-paws and landing in front of Minerva. Everyone turned to look at her, but she failed to notice this since she was mesmerized by the big red button, as most would be. Almost in slow motion, we watched her raise one finger to press the button, and then chaos ensued. It was quite a sight, one that will definitely go down in the legends of Hogwarts. First, all the students had their clothes transfigured once more, only this time they were all wearing costumes of one of the four Founders' animagus forms. The interesting part was that they were not segregated by house, with lions sitting among snakes, next to badgers and eagles. Once they got over their surprise, the entire student body looked towards the professors, waiting to see the next part of the prank. They weren't disappointed when a sweet-smelling cloud of smoke suddenly enveloped the table, with clear air pockets around myself, the god, and the crow, and when the smoke cleared all the professors were stoned out of their minds. Minerva began staring at the ceiling and giggling like mad, Flitwick developed a highly amusing case of the munchies, and Tom somehow managed to find a guitar and was strumming idly, singing old folk tunes.

The students found the sight of their professors in such a compromised state so amusing that immediately there were multiple camera flashes taking pictures until the room was suddenly plunged into darkness for a moment. Multicoloured lights started to illuminate the entire hall, swirling around as in a lava lamp, and a disco ball suddenly appeared, throwing bits of the light around. The lighting not only made the professors trip harder, but had the side effect of making the students' costumes look like something out of a demented production of Alice in Wonderland. When the disco music started, the Bee Gees if I'm not mistaken, many of the students decided to start dancing in full costume, which I'm sure made a few of the professors have an even stranger trip. No one seemed to notice that we remained unaffected, which was just as well considering that we were all laughing hysterically at the sight presented to us. A wicked idea came to me, and despite the still dancing students and stoned professors, I stood to address the student body. Now, I apparently have a reputation of being a so-called buzzkill, so when I stood the students actually stopped and some paled when they realized that I was unaffected. For a moment, I kept my stoic greasy git persona up, but then I grinned and informed the students that, seeing as the entire teaching body save myself was unable to stand out of their chairs, let alone teach, that today would be a school holiday with full Hogsmeade access provided that they ventured out and would stay in costume. After a moment of shocked realization that their most feared professor was actually encouraging them to blow off school and have fun, a loud cheer rose up from those students not still frozen by shock and the room emptied rather quickly. The god and crow were both at this point rolling on the floor laughing, well, at least the crow was trying to roll seeing as the avian shape is not exactly conductive to such actions.

We rescued Tom from the table, and we were all rather surprised when it was revealed that he was still mostly lucid. As it turns out, he used to be quite a stoner in his youth, and had something of a resistance to the smoke. He was still mellowed out enough not to flinch around the god, so I invited him to come along with us, wherever we would go. He accepted, but insisted on bringing the guitar, which would fit in nicely with our motley ensemble. We decided to start in Hogsmeade, not only to keep an eye on the students but to disconcert them even more with the 'new' Snape. I think that my lack of choice of company is beginning to affect me somewhat, I'm sure that I never would have been a party to such mischievous schemes prior to the arrival of my eccentric roommates.

As soon as we arrived in Hogsmeade, I saw the telltale gleam in Anubis's eyes which boded ill for the patrons and merchants of the town, and he immediately dived into Honeydukes, the crow in hot pursuit. Tom started giggling at this point, and I think that he realized that, as fearsome as the god was in Egypt, in reality he is just a goof. Dreading the inevitable sugar rush, Tom and I waited outside and had quite an amiable conversation, effectively destroying what might have been left of our fearsome reputations, until the door of Honeydukes slammed open and a twitching, grinning god stood in the doorway. I'm sure that the shopkeeps are likely mentally scarred for life, but in retrospect they should realize that they got off easy. He immediately bombarded me with images, which he later apologized for doing in his excitement, and I groaned when I realized that they wanted to go out into the muggle world. Realizing that I had little choice, I nodded my head and beckoned them to follow me. I apparated to my rather dingy flat in Spinner's End with Tom and the Terrible Twosome following, and after changing Tom's and my own attire to acceptable muggle clothing, we ventured out onto the streets of London, which I daresay will never be the same again.

Anubis was completely entranced with the neon lights, billboards, and cars to the point where he ceased to look where he was going and was actually struck by several cars, which he didn't even notice. After a good bit of rather aimless wandering, we took our lunch in some random pub, which amused the crow and god to no end. The barkeep was at first skeptical about having a large bird in his establishment, let alone serving him, but after a spectacular crow-cursing session and several pointed stares from us he relented. The food was adequate, but upon leaving the pub the god was immediately fascinated with a large billboard for one of the many plays over in the West End, and with yet another eye roll we dragged him away and went to purchase tickets for the later showing of Phantom of the Opera. I told the god that such attire as he was wearing would be unacceptable, and if we were to go to the musical he would, just for a few hours, acquiesce to our fashion sense. We wandered around for a bit more, spending the afternoon in Madame Tussaud's, most notably in the Chamber of Horrors. Both pranksters decided to lend their own flair to the exhibit, and struck poses among the wax figures. The god took the stance of a barbarian-type with a large axe and the crow struck a pose trying to pry out the eyes of a figure in a cage. Tom and I just stood there, waiting for them to get it out of their systems so we could continue on. Just as a large tour group came through, admiring the realistic figures, the crow decided to start making sounds. Now, I'm sure they thought that it was just interactive, but then it began screeching bloody murder and dive bombing the group, which fled right near the god's exhibit. A low laugh made them turn around almost at once to see the figure with the axe glaring at them with bloodlust rampant in his eyes. They promptly ran screaming directly into us, which scared them even worse since they obviously thought we were standing too still to be real people, and managed to get out of the Chamber eventually. Tom, the god, and the crow were all laughing and enjoying themselves immensely, and I even joined in with a sardonic chuckle and smirk.

By the time we finally finished with Madame Tussaud's, it was almost time for the show so we pulled the god into a dark alley and quickly transfigured his clothes into a light silk shirt, loose trousers and decent-looking sandals, since I really did not want to try to force him into shoes. Tom and I followed suit, and together we managed to get in the theater and to our seats with only one minor incident. It would seem that not too many corvids like to attend musical theater, so it took several more pointed stares and a decent bribe to get the staff to look the other way for the night. The god was positively bubbling over with excitement, and stared at every detail with rapt fascination. He sent images of various plays that they used to perform in the temples back in his time, and he vastly enjoyed them. Both of them somehow managed to stay quiet during the performance, which is a minor miracle in and of itself and is perhaps the longest span of waking time that they managed to not prank anyone. The play was well done, with a rather excellent singer playing the role of the Phantom, and at times, when I would look over, I witnessed a couple slow tears leaving the god's eyes every so often. During the intermission, I went to the lobby to purchase a few souvenirs, including a soundtrack that I intended to get signed and a large shirt bearing the logo of the show, seeing as Anubis was really enjoying himself. When the play finished, he was the first one on his feet applauding, startling many of the people sitting around us momentarily. As we left to return to Hogwarts, he was constantly sending us his impressions of the play, and I think that in the future it would be prudent to take him to several others. I got the feeling that he truly sympathized with the Phantom, and that he wasn't happy with the ending, but it was a beautiful spectacle.

Rather exhausted by the events of the day, we took a now-sober but still relaxed Tom to his room, bidding him good night before our party ventured back to my quarters. Before we left, Tom extended his hand to the god, who was rather pleased by this and took it, giving it a healthy shake. On the short trip back to my quarters, he somehow managed to shed every piece of clothing save for his trousers, and those were being unfastened just as we entered my quarters. The crow immediately flew for his dish of whiskey and proceeded to get thoroughly drunk as we all sat around the fire, remarking on how pleasant a day it actually was. If someone had told me that I would be sitting in my quarters with an ancient god and drunk crow that are surprisingly good company when they want to be and acting upon Harry's postmortem wishes, I would have likely hexed them into next week and sent them straight to a mental ward. I suppose that things don't aways turn out as one would expect, but there's something to be said for accepting such things as they are. I suspect that Harry's occasional maudlin mood is rubbing off, so I think that I shall retire for the night after giving the god the items I bought at the show. Perhaps tomorrow I'll research the concert that Harry was referring to, I would love to find the soundtrack or video, if for no other reason than the mysterious final song. Knowing Harry as I do now, it will likely be breathtakingly poignant and tragic, yet beautiful and strong, just like the man who wrote it. It certainly will not fill this gnawing emptiness within me, but it will be at least one more connection to the man that I wish now I had gotten to know better. Regrets may be futile, but they are human, and despite the ever-present vampire rumours such is what I am.


	32. Chapter 31

_Journal entry the thirty-first_

_It's a very good thing that I decided to effectively retire from the social existence of Harry Potter, not to mention making all my preparations for the renewal of Hogwarts long in advance. It could be my illness, the fresh memories constantly being drug up as my barriers weaken, or some unknown third factor, but as of recent I have most definitely not been myself. When a bout of memory overcomes me, I will stand and stare at the sky for hours as the lines between memory and reality become increasingly blurred. Hm, I could just be cracking up as well, I suppose, or going senile. Hey, let's see how intact most people are after over a thousand years, okay? I'm writing this entry during an increasingly rare lucid moment, and this journal has really helped with keeping my feet somewhat on the ground, as it were. Reading back over it has helped me stay largely in this world, and I'm not sure what I would have done without it at this point. When the time comes for my final rite, I have a potion that will guaranteed erase this lunacy from my mind. Of course, the potion is inherently very toxic, but in my case such a thing is moot. I'll die from the magical strain and illness long before the toxin could work, and it's absolutely crucial that I am in full possession of my right mind at that time. As it is, I still have a few months left of life, so I might as well sit back and enjoy the flashbacks. _

_From what I can tell, Sylvain has been having more fun as Harry Potter than I ever did, and is taking quite a few liberties with my reputation. At least it's obvious that I've been a huge influence on him, for he has taken to pranking as a starving man takes to a buffet. No one in Hogwarts is safe from the scaled menace, and the thought brings a large grin to my face. Of course his pranks are nowhere near the scale that my postmortem ones will be, or in your case Sev, have been, but he still has a flair. I'd love to introduce him to the Weasley twins, who are two of the three Weasleys that will not be harmed with my retribution. Now, you may be wondering why I have such a grudge against the Golden Traitors, not to mention a large part of Gryffindor house and largely anyone who was involved in my post-Durstley's life. I've mentioned that they betrayed me, but it occurs to me that I was rather vague on the details, so let me cover them now while they remain fresh in my memory. Plus, this will give me a perfect chance to embed their further punishment. Don't worry Sev sweetie, I won't have you be a part of this one. _

_First, I would like to state that, from the beginning, Ron and Hermione's friendships were a pure fraud. They were ordered by the Great White Coot to befriend the poor little orphan boy saviour, who he imagined would have such low self esteem from the psychological abuse that he would immediately attach himself wholly to his agents. Hah. I immediately knew, just from their scents, that they were not honest in their approach, but since I was unaware at the time of whom was acting against me, I decided to play along. I'm very good at role playing, as you may have noticed. Ah, what dirty, nasty fun thoughts that brings up, if I was a well man I would love to play the snarky potions master and his naughty student... I digress, don't want the mind to wander on that tangent, at least yet. My suspicions were confirmed the first time I met Dumbles, his scent was all over his agents, and my instincts were screaming that this was a dangerous man. Who really sends a few young kids against a soul-walking Dark Lord, not to mention the various other challenges. Just for the record, I would like to state that I never actually thought that you were trying to steal the Stone, I had to play along with the traitors who's job it was to pour poison in my ear about any individuals that I could have made honest connections with. He gave Ron and Hermione advance warning as to the challenges so that they would be able to 'help' me, yet not be around for the final confrontation. Warning bells were sounding in my mind the whole time, for these challenges were ridiculously easy, even for first years with a modicum of sense. Not a very secure setup, so the only logical situation is that he wanted it to be found. Their treachery came to light during this encounter, but they had yet to reveal their true natures._

_Over the years, they had many other chances to betray me in various ways, which I'm sure they thought I was far too ignorant to detect. These small betrayals I could largely overlook, since I never had any real connection with them, but the final straw came at the end of the last school year, when I learned of two separate things, one long past and one in the immediate future, that did and could have truly hurt me. First, they were the ones who recommended killing Hedwig as a way to break the spirit that I was beginning to show at that point. Acting against me, that's one thing, but to involve an innocent in any way, shape, or form is absolutely beyond forgiveness. Dumbles was still the one to cast the spell, but they were the ones who gave and encouraged that idea. Even with Sylvain and Dobby as company, I still miss her calming presence. Before she died, I was going to leave her to Hagrid in my will, for I know that he would have taken great care of her. Surprisingly, I never knew of the true extent of their betrayal until after the Department of Mysteries fiasco, where I cornered and essentially mind-raped them. I was thoroughly sick and tired of their inane presences, so I decided to audit their actions in the past and plans for the future to come up with a suitable outcome. When I learned of their plan against Hedwig, I got physically sick to the point where I had to bind and stun them with my Stare so I could ride out the nausea. It took all my willpower to refrain from lifting up my inner eyelids and using the killing Stare for the second time in any existence when I learned of their second planned treachery, which probably would have broken me once and for all. Of course, if such had been the case, well, with the wide range of powers under my command I would have likely destroyed the entire wizarding world in my grief, and a good chunk of the muggle one as well. _

_I've mentioned before that I am very protective of those under the roof of Hogwarts, especially regarding the students. Even the ones that made my life rather hellish are included in that group, for their mistakes are made out of naiveté and innocence. What Ron and Hermione had planned would have easily ranked as one of the greatest crimes against humanity, at least within wizarding history. They knew that I was slipping further and further from what they perceived was their grip on my mind and powers, and wanted me to come back into the fold, as it were, by showing me what despicable acts the evil Dark wizards are capable of. Since not even Voldemort at the height of his controlled state of being was able to commit a crime large enough to satisfy their tastes, they decided to take matters into their own hands. They were going to wait until the end of year feast, when all of Hogwarts is conveniently in one room, and then they were going to unleash a carefully crafted illusion combined with a very real curse translated through an archaic means to kill every single student saving themselves and my 'lucky' personage, as well as every professor except Dumbles. They were going to cluster around me when the attack commenced, joined by Dumbles, and somehow my killing-curse repelling nature was supposed to protect them, at least that's the story they were going to tell the media. In reality, they each had amulets designed to absorb the killing blow and redirect it to some random, unlucky human. There was one further exception to the rule, however. They were going to temper the curse when it would strike you, Sev, so that you would be in a deathlike state until they revived you for some lovely torturing as twisted payback for the point-taking in Potions class. Then, with only four survivors rising from the rubble, the newly-converted BWL was supposed to slaughter any suspicious wizard or witch with impunity until the wizarding world was wiped of this evil blight. They never expected me to learn about this beforehand, and I am eternally thankful that I listened to my instincts to mercilessly pillage their minds. I obliviated them after getting all the information I needed, which was almost more than I could stand, and immediately left to steal the artifact that was key to their plot. _

_Long ago, during my first lifetime there was an infamous lich named Vyrrinas, whom was ancient when I was still a stripling boy. Despite his fearsome reputation, he was the foremost artificer of the time and quite often did a brisk business with the druids. I first met him when I was a lad, and he took an immediate shine to me, which was rare for the usually antisocial lich. A lich, of course, is a necromancer who has successfully performed the Rite of Ascension, and is rewarded with huge power reserves and a perfect, immortal body. Our friendship grew to the point where he actually helped with the building of Hogwarts, embedding several of his more powerful artifacts at various places within the castle. Many of the more powerful artifacts in existence today, including the Veil, are of his make, and through some means Ron and Hermione managed to get their hands on one of his earlier creations, which he never named but I dubbed the Prism. What the Prism was designed to do was to amplify a spell and reflect it throughout its immediate surroundings, much like a regular prism reflects light. Now, this sounds like a very evil thing, but like all artifacts it is neither inherently good or evil, for it would be just as easy to send a healing spell through it as it would be to send a cutting hex. Their intent, of course, was to send the Killing Curse through it, while protecting themselves with fragments of the Prism that they pried off. They were going to cover the Prism with an illusion of the Dark Lord rampaging with scores of Death Eaters, laying waste to all those around them. Somehow, the artifact had found its way into the Weasley vaults, and of course the bookworm Hermione found a way to use it that would be absolutely devastating. Stealing it was remarkably easy, and as I pondered what my next action would be I had a flash of pure inspiration. I held onto it into the summer, when I knew that I would need a vacation of sorts. _

_As most craftsmen are, Vyrrinas was very particular with how his artifacts were used, often including several clauses and training the purchaser in proper maintenance techniques. Despite being a necromancer, I knew that he would be as disgusted as I to learn that one of his creations was intended to be used for such a purpose, largely due to the fact that most of the victims would have been children. So, Prism in pocket, I decided to take a side trip to the Swiss Alps, the land of skiing, chocolate, banks, and one super-powerful ancient lich who currently owns a ski lodge and has a brisk side business selling luxurious, expensive woodcrafts to rich tourists. He's still antisocial, don't get me wrong, but like most immortal beings with a survival instinct he's surprisingly flexible and able to adapt to the times. Besides, it's not like undead zombie armies are in high demand. He was certainly very surprised to see me, but welcomed me with open arms as if the years never passed. When I returned the Prism to him and explained what it was going to be used for, well, it was very easy to see at that moment that he was an ancient lich with more power in one finger than most adult wizards have in their entire bodies. He took the Prism back, and told me that, when I would deem it fit, he would love to, erm, "meet" the individuals responsible for the plot. _

_With this bit of business out of the way, I spent a bit longer there than I thought I would, soaking up the complimentary suite and drinking all the hot chocolate I could stand,not to mention the company of the lich himself. It was a thoroughly enjoyable time, and I would have been a rude guest to turn down his offer. Since I am a man of my word, at this moment Ron and Hermione are both being transported from wherever they may be, probably St. Mungo's at this point, to a location of Vyrrinas's choosing. Did I mention that he really, **really** doesn't like it when people use his artifacts for such things? Not only that, but it's been ages since he's been able to use some of his more esoteric spells and talents. Of course, should they die after experiencing the other side of his hospitality, well, death is not a barrier for the lich. If I had any interest in coming back as a zombie, he would have been more than happy to oblige me, but no undead fate really looks appealing to me. I prefer either being entirely alive, or dead, and he respected my choice. All that matters is that the traitors are finally getting their just desserts, after suffering for a bit due to my lovely little pranks. _

_Ah, I can feel the clouds start to return, so I think I shall end this entry for now. While it's fresh on my mind, I think I might go to visit my dear friend the lich, see how things are going. Besides, I suddenly have a craving for the sinful hot chocolate served at his lodge. Before I take my leave, I would like to state one thing. Had all the children of Hogwarts been slaughtered in such a fashion, I would have been in bad shape, but not wholly broken. No, what would have pushed me over the edge was learning of your fate. I'm not sure what awaits me upon my death, but if it is possible I will try to look out for you, be your guardian of sorts. You are dear to me Sev, and as much as it pains you to read this, imagine how it pains me to write this, knowing that it will hurt you. I can't leave it unsaid, alas. Well, enough maudlin, time to scare the piss out of some tourists. I love taking my pranks on the road, I get a whole new audience and set of reactions._

Before I had the chance to finish reading this entry, I was interrupted by a frantic Poppy, who informed me that somehow Weasley and Granger had disappeared from their secure ward in St. Mungo's, and currently their whereabouts were unknown. I think she was somewhat put off by my uninterested shrug and lack of surprise, and was about to harangue me about such things when she noticed the infamous open journal in my lap. I don't think I've seen her run so fast before, but the noise was enough to wake up my formerly passed out guests. If I was a cruel man, I would leave Anubis in the infirmary for a span of time, since he's shown an interest in today's healing techniques. Hm, I shall have to consider it if my supply of headache potion and firewhiskey runs too low.

It seems to me at times that there is virtually no one within the more powerful magical circles that Harry doesn't know, and/or is a blood relation. I shouldn't be surprised that he would know the creator of such artifacts, or that it would be an ancient lich who's name is still known today, but I just can't reconcile the image of an ascended necromancer running a ski lodge and making clocks. I wonder how he handles customer complaints. Such thoughts notwithstanding, the punishment that Harry devised for the other parts of the Golden trio is terrifying to think about, and likely on a par with the fate that Dumbledore was accorded, but very appropriate given the scale of their crimes, both actual and intended. I have no idea what fate, if any, he did meet in the afterlife, but in life he was certainly the guardian of Hogwarts, protecting us against all manner of threats seen, and more than any of us thought that were unseen. I find it interesting, though, that he waited so long to enact his vengeance on the traitors when he spirited Dumbledore away to his fate as soon as he possibly could. I can't fathom his motives at the moment, but that's understandable considering the day I've had.

Unable to put it off any longer, I resumed teaching classes, which is not my favourite task given the best of circumstances, but when a constantly hyper god and drunk, prank-prone crow decide to sit in on every single class it just takes everything to a whole new level. I suppose I should be grateful that Anubis decided to wear clothes, even if it was just the woolen kilt, but even so he was quite a distraction in class even when sitting down. Or, should I say, especially when sitting down. My students are used to the crow by now, to the point where they consider him as my familiar of sorts, but the god threw them all for loops. I'll give him credit, he did pay rapt attention as I was describing the day's potions to the classes, and watched me avidly when writing on the board, but once the students settled down to begin brewing he started to get a touch restless. I have never been so grateful before for the latin lessons that were instilled in me from a very young age, and after explaining the more technical aspects as well as the potential screw-ups, I set him to walk up and down the aisles as I was, inspecting the potions from time to time. It was an interesting arrangement, for the crow was alert as well and prepared to eat any potions ingredients that would cause a dire situation, even in his tipsy state. The god did passingly well at this task, for the first few classes at least, but when the seventh years came filing in, the glint reappeared in his eyes. I'll give Draco credit, he did not faint, but his skin took on an even paler hue and he was so distracted that he didn't even begin to brew the assignment. Normally I wouldn't tolerate this slacking, even from my godson, but the circumstances were such that I could spare him this once.

As prank-prone and silly as he may be at times, Anubis is no fool, and somehow knew that this was the class that Harry would have been in if he had survived. The few members of the class from Gryffindor house, which contains the last hold-outs for the pro-Dumbledore faction, had the audacity to snicker at his lack of attire, and one of them, Lavender, had the audacity to actually flirt with him. I would swear that the temperature of the room dropped a few degrees when that happened, and somehow the clueless bint did not take the hint that he was not interested in a silly human girl, let alone one that hurt his friend and distant blood kin. A cruel smile spread on his face, and finally the clueless seventh-year Gryffindors realized that this was not someone to trifle with. Of course that didn't stop Dean from spouting something about freaks that hang out with Death Eaters, which promptly lowered the temperature to the point where breath became visible. Fortunately I had the presence of mind to shield each cauldron and place temperature-regulating spells on them, otherwise the potions would have been ruined. By this point, pretty much everyone had fled from the immediate space surrounding Lavender and Dean, huddling in the far corner of the room in what would have been an impressive show of school unity barring such a threatening situation. The two Gryffindors tried to flee as well, but found themselves unable to move out of their chairs. I can not honestly say that I felt any empathy for them at the moment, such foolishness and apparent lack of a survival instinct must be addressed. I was impressed, however, with the extremely high pitches that Dean managed to reach with his panic-filled screams, and how quickly Lavender was reduced to a sobbing mess. My guest was starting to really get into it, so against my own basic survival instincts I decided to step in. I placed a hand on one broad shoulder to get his attention, and when he turned to look at me there was a strangely familiar look in his eyes, barely suppressed rage tempered with a world-weariness, but realizing where he was the look faded and the temperature in my classroom stabilized once more.

I dismissed the class, sending the two idiotic Gryffindors to the Infirmary, and once the room was clear I activated the passage to Salazar's secret lab, escorting the other two in and thanking Merlin that it was lunchtime. After looking around with barely concealed curiousity, my guest slumped down on one of the stools that I added and stared at me with an almost apologetic look. I reassured him that I had no problem with what he did to the deserving students, and some of the tension visibly melted away. It never ceases to amaze me that this creature, whom was worshiped long ago and still retains most if not all of his god-like powers, seems to care what I think, and listens to me after a fashion. Sure, it's still a struggle to get him to wear any type of clothing, and when it comes to the consumption of sugar there is no force on heaven or earth that can prevent him from consuming vast quantities and experiencing a legendary sugar rush, but when there is something serious he seems to defer to me. It's amazing, such a powerful being and he's listening to a mortal in order to adapt to his new surroundings. I don't think that I could have done as well, if I were the one locked up for thousands of years, forgotten, in an old tomb or temple. Besides, if a lich can run a ski resort why can't an ancient god become reintroduced to society. I'm certain that he has some type of agenda that runs deeper than going to musical theaters and making almost everyone in Hogwarts drool, and out of respect for him I will not inquire.

After settling him and calming him down somewhat, he got that glint in his eyes once more and, with thoughts and parchment, asked if he could step in as the professor for the NEWT level class, with myself present of course as not only a translator but observer. Flattered, and more than a little curious, I agreed to his request, knowing that if I refused then the snow cone machine still in my quarters would likely be running around the clock, making that dreadful noise. Selecting certain ingredients from Salazar's private stores, we returned to the classroom and he began setting aside various exotic ingredients. When the NEWT level class entered, they were all quite surprised by the switch, but to their credit they settled down quickly, just as curious as I regarding his plans for the class. With a grin, he waved his hand and the potion directions appeared on the board in perfect latin, which he translated with a spell he found in my library the night before. There was no explanation about what they were making, not even the name of the potion, and after examining the ingredients I confess that I was not exactly sure what my students were making. I had an idea, of course, knowing the properties of everything in my stores, but the combinations and procedures were something that I had not yet encountered before, which would make sense if this potion is as old as I believe it to be. Amazingly, with no pressure other than the grinning god staring at their cauldrons, almost every pair managed to make the potion to his satisfaction. Of course the students by now were quite curious, for the potions were a strange light blue colour and smelled faintly of lotus.

After examining each vial, he selected one that apparently was the best and, with a pleading look, beckoned for me to take the draught. A prankster he may be, but when it comes to such matters I find myself, perhaps against my better judgment, trusting him, so I stepped forward and held it to my lips, checking to make sure what was what he intended, and he nodded, mimicking taking the whole thing in one swallow. Closing my eyes, I did exactly that, and surprisingly the taste was not unpleasant. I started to feel a tingling sensation run throughout my body, not unpleasant but unusual, and was about to open my eyes when I felt the god place his hand over them gently. He placed his other hand on my shoulder and moved me so that I was facing the students, and lifted his hand from my eyes, allowing me to open them. The sight I was greeted with was astonishing. From what I can gather, acolytes in his and other temples used this potion to essentially read auras and magical powers in order to select the perfect person as a high priest. Every student was surrounded by a shimmering field of misty light, with occasional sparks or streaks running through, and each one burned with a different level of intensity in a wide range of colours. Somehow, I could look at the students and see which ones had a true aptitude for potions, or herbology, or any other pursuit, and how strong they were not only magically but as a person. The sight was breathtaking, and before I realized it I turned to take in the sights of my two houseguests. The crow's aura and magical field dwarfed those of the students, pulsing with green mist and silver streaks in an impressive light display. Of course, if the crow burned like a sun then Anubis burned with the fury of a supernova, bright multicoloured mists surrounding his body, with pulsing bouts of golden energy emanating from his eyes and hands. As bright as he burned, I just couldn't look away, for even though I expected his power levels to be off the charts of anything mortal, there was something not quite right. I'm not referring to anything that could be harmful, per se, but there just was something out of place that I couldn't quite figure out. Apparently the dose I drank was only designed to last roughly five minutes, for my vision began to fade back to normal. Taking a second to regain my composure, I turned and addressed the class, revealing what it was that they made and how it was not to be used outside of this classroom. They all agreed, realizing that we were going to explore the properties of the potion further in future classes, and rushed out the door at the end of the class, excited and amazed that not once did I take any house points from any student.

Things went rather smoothly after that, until the now usual dinner chaos, and amazingly I only had to use two headache potions to get through the day. Tom noticed my unusual relaxed state, and joined us upon our return to my quarters for our now nightly drinking session. The rest of the night was rather uneventful, Tom and I filled in most of the conversation and we were briefly amused by the god trying to lip sync to U2 on the karaoke machine that somehow found it's way into my quarters. Our reverie was broken by Draco knocking tentatively on my door with a DVD in hand, which proved itself to be the official release of the benefit concert that Harry starred in. I set up Harry's old TV and DVD player, and we settled in to watch it in its entirety. It's amazing that, even among such huge stars, Harry's light burned brighter than any other, and his final song Sacrifice was absolutely breathtaking. We were all choked up as we watched that too-thin figure, standing alone on the stage in the spotlight, singing such a heartbreaking song entirely acapella. His voice was truly among the best surely that have ever existed, and at the end of his song he stood perfectly still as the audience broke into frenzied applause, sobbing, and cries of adoration. Even his fellow performers, when they came out for the final bow, were visibly choked up. Finally, Harry took a step forward and lifted a hand, waving goodbye to the audience before apparating straight out of the stadium. Not an eye was dry after that, and with a nod we all retired to our respective quarters. Even Anubis was subdued as he placed one hand on my shoulder reassuringly, and the crow settled down for the night early, which was unusual. Such is where I find myself now, and I can only wonder what wonders or horrors my dreams will bring. It can't be healthy to pine this much for a dead man, but that is where I find myself. Watching Harry in a completely different environment than what I am used to seeing him has solidified whatever doubts I would have had about the potential of a physical relationship with him. I will surrender myself to the bittersweet embrace of Morpheus for now, and I can't help but wonder if this world is somewhat lessened without such a dynamic being among us. No, I'm sure it is.


	33. Chapter 32

_Journal entry the thirty-second_

_Where does the time go, I wonder. With the new lease on life that I've recently received, the thought of heading off to my probable demise no longer has the appeal it once does. Oh, I'm still going to go through with my plans, for the alternative choice is one that I could not live with, and despite this pesky hope I am still irrevocably dying. And with the frequent flashbacks, I have decided to accept the possibility that the weight of all the years has finally gotten to me and I'm going somewhat senile. This is not a problem for me, per se, in fact embracing such a situation, true or not, is very liberating. I could walk down the street wearing fuzzy slippers and robe, and blame it on the senility. I would do such a thing anyway if I felt the need, but now I would have an excuse that wouldn't land me in jail, at least most of the time. So, I am going to continue living my life as I like, what's left of it, and since this journal might be the only legacy left behind that I have any control over, I will keep it up, even though my hands are shaking more than they used to. Damn, I really hate dicta-quills. I was so tempted, way back when, to use my hidden powers to send that quill straight through Rita Skeeter's lips, pinning them shut so I wouldn't have to listen to her nonsense. It's amazing, I started this journal with the intention of simply telling the true version of the so-called facts of my life, but I've opened up more than I ever have, even sharing things that I'm sure I would never have told you, my dear Sev, in life. I am by nature and habit a private person, so reading back at the truths I have inadvertently spilled, I am rather shocked. I won't go back and edit, perish the thought, rather I think I'll continue in this vein, if nothing else than for the novelty. Besides, I still have plenty of pranking ideas, which I'm sure have given you quite the reputation, Sevvie. _

_Right now I am far from Hogwarts, quite comfortably ensconced in Vyrrinas's ski lodge, savouring perhaps the finest hot chocolate ever to exist and warming my bones by a large roaring fire, a full pipe of my own herbal mixture that I used all the time in my first life on my lips and journal in my lap. The only thing that could make this moment better is if I was sitting on your lovely personage instead of the admittedly comfy chair I now rest in, but I can make do. I've been kicking myself for not coming to see him sooner, thanks to several talismans that he made ages ago I'm now largely free of pain, and the chill which never seems to leave is muted to the point where it's no more noticeable than a paper cut. Not to mention his hospitality, hell I might just stay here until it's almost time for my big finale. At the very least, I'll come back here in my wanderings. The tourists have been giving me something of a hairy eyeball, but since I have super-VIP status my dear friend the lich has told them all that I have unlimited and free access to whatever I wish. Oh, a rather amusing incident just yesterday comes to mind, by all means feel free to mercilessly tease the involved parties._

_After I finished my last entry, I immediately left for the lodge via talisman, and managed to actually surprise my dear lich friend by materializing in his bathroom at the moment that he was enjoying a luxurious, sweet-smelling bubble bath. I managed to keep a straight face, fluffy bubbles and surprised look on that handsome, ageless face notwithstanding, but what did me in was the duckie. Not just a rubber duckie, but one done up to look like a mummy. I was laughing so hard that I could barely breathe, and after a moment of shock Vyrrinas joined in, squeezing the duckie so that it's squeaking sounded like laughter. After regaining our composure, and in the lich's case, some pants, he took in my somewhat deteriorated condition and immediately shooed me into his quarters, stripping me down to address some of my ailments. Even though he is a Lord of all things dead, or in fact because of it, Vyrrinas is quite adept at understanding the mortal body, and is quite a physician in his own right. After stripping me, he shooed me off to the very same bath that he was just enjoying, refreshing it with a wave of his hand, and plunked me down into the perfect temperature water to gently wash me. He refused to leave me alone, saying that since I obviously couldn't do such things for myself, I had no say in the matter. I wasn't one to refuse, after the bath I felt many times better. He then wrapped me up with sweet-smelling ligaments and rubs to relieve the bruising and plied me with many, many potions of his own devising to restore my colour and clear my lungs, among other things, all the while scolding me for not taking better care of myself. He can be something of a mother hen, but I guess that friends are few and far between for him, even fewer that know who and what he truly is. In my natural form, we're just about the same size, so he gave me many soft, luxurious clothes to wear, discarding the somewhat worse for wear clothes that I had arrived in. Clean, wrapped, dressed, and feeling like a new man, he then escorted me to the adjoining suite after calling room service to bring us up a luxurious meal while I filled him in on what I've been up to. We had a rather enjoyable meal, lapsing into reminisces of shared times past, and it was refreshing to talk with someone else who had a memory of my first friends. _

_Once he judged that I was now able to go out in public, we went down to the main lounge area for his rounds. I, of course, immediately gravitated towards the addictive hot chocolate and the very chair in which I am now sitting. It was just breaking dawn then, and people were starting to wake up and head down for their morning repasts. Feeling in a prankish mood, I decided to prey on their general unawareness, and started roaming the hallways of the sleeping areas, occasionally making strange noises to rouse the late sleepers. As I was doing my best imitation of a peacock, one of the doors banged open to reveal a sleep-disheveled Lucius Malfoy, complete with bed-head, bloodshot eyes, and sky-blue silk pajamas with a motif of fluffy bunnies wearing top hats, completed by matching bunny slippers. Of course he didn't realize that I was even there, since I am quite good, even now, at the whole stealth thing, so he muttered something about ungrateful heirs and returned to his quarters. Now morbidly curious, I asked Vyrrinas about the Malfoys, and after checking the register he told me that all the Malfoys, save the now divorced Narcissa, were in residence, and noticing the gleam in my eyes told me their room numbers with a wicked grin of his own. Since I had already found the Malfoy patriarch, in all his fluffy bunny splendor, I decided to find out if certain traits were passed from father to son, so I decided to grace dear Drakie with my encore performance. _

_The results, if I must say, were even more spectacular than before. After becoming one with the angry peacock, I was rewarded with a similar door banging, revealing the younger Malfoy. I do say, horrible bed-head seems to run in the family, but that wasn't the first thing I noticed. No, that would have to be the frilly pink nightgown that, if Draco had any assets to reveal on top, would have been scandalously low-cut. To complete this ensemble, he had a matching pink satin sleep mask pulled up on his forehead and pink fuzzy slippers that had "Daddy's Girl" embroidered in sparking white thread. After retreating into the sanctity of his bedroom, I stood there for more than a few minutes in shock, and made my way down like a zombie to Vyrrinas, with what I'm sure was quite a stunned, amused look frozen on my face. With just one raise of his eyebrow, suddenly I was on the floor once more gasping for air, I was laughing so hard. It took me a while to tell the lich what I had seen, since I couldn't get through the descriptions without laughing myself silly, but once I got through the tale he joined me. We got many an odd stare from the tourists, but since Vyrrinas had established himself as something of an eccentric it was overlooked. After calming down somewhat, he revealed to me that one of the artifacts that I was wearing pendant-style on top of my clothes had another talent in that it recorded one's surroundings for twenty-four hours straight, much like a camcorder, and that he could withdraw certain moments from the talisman and transfer them to wizarding photographic paper. This is what you could tease or torment the Malfoys mercilessly with, my dear Sev, but for safety's sake the pictures are not in my possession. Now, don't get me wrong, I am fond of the Malfoy clan in my own way, but it's just sooo fun to chisel away at their inflated egos. _

_In order to retrieve these photos, I would like ,if I may, to take you... (cue audience: Where!") on a strange journey.. (cue audience: How strange was it!) Ack, sorry for the random reference there, I just couldn't resist. Anyway, if you get Tom and have him read the audience cues in response to your reading of that line, it will activate a hidden talent of this journal, one that I just installed, and take you to visit my dear friend Vyrrinas. Feel free to bring any other company you may wish, just be sure that they are holding your hand. Don't worry, I've got it set up to appear in a secluded corner of his lounge, not in the bath. Vyrrinas holds the hard copies of the Malfoys in their respective choices of sleepwear, and will surrender them to you once you identify yourselves and show him the journal. My reason for this is three-fold. First, I know not how my belongings, meager as they may be, will be treated until my will is revealed and read, so the photos could not stay safely in my possession. Second, I've sung your praises so much that my lich friend is eager to meet you, and before you freak no, he will not treat you however he is taking care of the traitors, you will be a VIP guest and be treated to the works on the house, guests included. Third, and this is my selfish impulse, but I want you to meet him as well. It's become important that I have the important people in my life know each other, and he's good company besides. This isn't compulsory, Sev, it's your choice as to when or if you wish to take this trip, but just know that the thought of you all gathering here, perhaps before this very fireplace, and enjoying each other's company gives me a warm, fuzzy feeling that is quite rare. At the very least, you'd get a nice, luxurious, unlimited stay at one of the top resorts in the Swiss Alps. I highly recommend the hot chocolate myself, despite being completely unlaced unlike the Hogwarts chocolate, it is wonderfully relaxing. Now, you may be wondering how you would be able to recognize Vyrrinas, since he can apparently mingle with humans freely. As it is, I've taken care of that for you, as soon as the journal enters the lodge once more it will trigger a special ward that will inform the lich as to your whereabouts, and he'll come to greet you promptly. If you have any doubt in your mind, he always wears a pendant of a silver serpent coiled around an ivory skull cameo, with a miniature star sapphire embedded in the skull's eye. Very distinctive, and he always wears it outside his clothing in plain sight, so you should have no problems there. Oh, one more thing, if you do decide to go, pack light. Vyrrinas loves to pamper honoured guests, and will take you and your party on a shopping spree guaranteed. He has exquisite taste and a wonderful eye, so it should be quite an experience. _

_Sitting here, with my old friend looking exactly as he did back then, smoking the old familiar herbs, I'm starting to find it harder to stay focused to this reality. The lines are blurring, and I find myself talking in the old dialects more and more often to my old friend, who is being the soul of kindness for going along with my occasional ramblings. I still almost expect to see Godric, Rowena, and Helga appear at any moment to join us around the fire, joking and laughing about times long gone, the castles we infiltrated and bamboozled, the quiet times in the still primal woods with only the sounds of nature surrounding us, and the great venture of Hogwarts, with all it's near misses and difficulties. Why did I wait so long to come visit my fellow relic from the past, I wonder. It's not like I ever forgot him, after all. Well, I don't have enough time to bemoan such a lamentable fact, not when I am being pampered mercilessly. There's just something so satisfying about being in compatible, friendly company, with a past that ensures that nothing needs remain hidden. True, I was never as close to Vyrrinas as I was to the other Founders, but he was and is still a true friend, and almost something like a distant uncle. Hm, I wonder if he's related, it's entirely possible considering what hedonistic, loose creatures my ancestors seem to have been. Not that there's a problem with that by any stretch of the imagination, I have a hedonistic streak myself. Long repressed as of recent, but it's still there, and starting to come out as my friend wraps me in soft textiles and listens to my senile-ish ramblings with inhuman patience. I think I'll bring Sylvain here on the morrow, he'll get a kick out of it despite the fact that serpents don't fare so well in cold climates. I shudder to think what the heating bill would be if Vyrrinas didn't extend some of his magic to keep the place well-heated and protected from the elements. _

_On this note, I think I shall end this entry before my ramblings invade my writing as they have invaded my speech. Ah, inspiration just struck for a fantastic prank, I do like to keep the faculty on their toes. It's always a good thing to receive a dose of humility once in a while, and if others can get enjoyment out of it, why not. I'm not exactly sure how it will turn out, I've been experimenting with intent spells recently, where a loose-ended, mostly finished spell takes characteristics of whatever state of mind that one is in. These are rather chaotic spells, so they greatly appeal to me, and if you should activate the prank before you take the trip, I'm sure that it will tickle Vyrrinas's fancy. All you have to do to trigger this group prank is push the button on the controller that will appear at the end of this entry, I'm finding myself fond of that method, it appeals to the Looney Tunes lover in me. Now I shall resume my ramblings amidst the sweet smoke from my pipe and cozy surroundings. I shall toast to yours and Tom's health, not that I need another excuse to indulge in this wonderfully rich and fattening chocolate. Good health, my love._

Even though I know his original identity, it still occasionally surprises me when it's revealed how Slytherin he could be. He knew that I would automatically be wary if he had demanded that I take the trip to the ski lodge, yet with his words, even though he was stressing that it was my choice, he knew exactly how to pique my curiousity to the point where it would become irresistible. So now I find myself sitting in the exact same chair that he chose all that time ago, with a former Dark Lord, immortal lich, prank-prone god, and smart-ass crow sitting around the fire as I am, alternating between gaping at the photos of the Malfoys and penning my own response. If anything, Harry's descriptions don't do the pictures justice, they are almost instantly laugh-inducing. I think that Anubis might have mentally scarred more than a few tourists, and probably left others in various states of arousal when he immediately doubled over in barking laughter, taking it so far as to roll on the floor clutching his sides. Keep in mind that all he was wearing was his now standard kilt and sandals, with nothing underneath the kilt as a matter of course, and a very loose white shirt that would be at home on the cover of a cheap romance novel. Fortunately, the lich is everything that Harry said he would be, and greeted us seconds after we arrived in this very lounge. I think that he wanted to meet us out of pure curiousity, to see what kind of acquaintances that Harry made in this life, and he has been the soul of hospitality so far.

If Harry had not provided us with such a perfect opportunity to get off Hogwarts grounds, I think that we likely would have done such just to let the teaching body of Hogwarts relax for a week or so. This may sound altruistic of me, but in reality we simply wish to lull them into complacency so that the next prank revealed will have a greater effect. As it is, this latest prank was unusual, but perhaps one of the most skillful. As usual, we decided to set it off during a dinner in the Great Hall, and I think that the student population at least expects something to happen during their meal by now. I've rapidly become one of the most popular professors, which is more than a tad unusual and hard for me to accept. Nonchalantly, during the meal I passed the controller over to Anubis, who decided to make a show of examining it and prodding at it, as if trying to figure out the mechanics. I will swear that once the faculty saw the controller in the hands of someone with apparently nonexistent morals or tact and poor impulse control, the blood left every single face in apprehension. Trelawney actually tried to make a break for it, vaulting over the table and running like a madwoman, bangles clanking and jingling with each step. Alas, she did not make it in time, but due to her distance from the Head Table she was somewhat spared. The students were all watching Anubis, cheering him on to press the button, so of course he did such at the exact moment when Trelawney almost got to the doors.

Instantly the scenery changed, showing a breathtaking view from the snowy top of a mountain somewhere in the Alps, likely a view from nearby the lodge. At once, the faculty all tried to stand from their chairs, which were the only furniture that accompanied the transition, but almost every professor was stuck to the chair, with the chair likewise stuck in the ground. The only ones who could stand were myself, Tom, and Anubis, with the crow being exempt anyway due to his aerial skills. At first the children were just standing in awe at the extremely realistic setting, gaping at the view and the cold winds that passed by them harmlessly due to a thoughtful warming charm, but eventually they did notice the immobile professors. Our merry little band decided to stand to the side, and after a moment of discussion they wisely decided to leave us alone. Almost as one, they all glanced down and the perfect snowball material at their feet, and much excited chatter followed. They began to form snowballs, yet they were hesitant to actually throw them at the professors. As if anticipating this, Harry included perhaps his most realistic illusion to date, for with a flash of light the images of all four Founders in their prime were standing with the students. With impish grins to each other and a few sly winks to the students, they all gathered snowballs of their own and as one threw with amazing accuracy. This broke the ice and stunned the professors, for they never expected that even the images of the Founders would join in such a silly escapade. Then the barrage began, with almost every student joining in, laughing and joking in pure innocent delight. At first the professors were resigned to their fate, but then a few began to see the humour in their situation and began laughing with the students, which promptly released them from their chairs so they could have a chance to either defend themselves or take potshots at their still captive colleagues. Needless to say, most of the freed professors joined the students with their volleys.

Meanwhile, we were far too busy enjoying the absurd, yet delightful scenario. I don't think that I have laughed as much in my entire life as I have when I began this journal adventure. After a few more volleys, and seeing that their comrades had been freed, eventually all the professors freed themselves from their chair and began fighting back, laughing and playing like little kids. Unnoticed by all save our merry band, the images of the Founders withdrew once the snowball fight was full-fledged and stood near us, smiling in approval before slowly fading. I'm not sure if it was intentional on Harry's part, but they faded in the same order they died, Rowena, followed by Helga and Godric. The image of Salazar, strikingly similar to Harry's true appearance as revealed with the concert, lingered a bit longer, a wistful smile on his face before he turned his head to look at us. My breath caught as he looked into my eyes with such tenderness, and he started to head towards me but slowly faded as he got within reach. The tender look turned to one of wistful longing, and before he faded entirely he bowed his head towards me, eyes gleaming with unshed tears. One fell to the snow near my feet before he faded entirely, and impulsively I reached for that spot, closing my hand around the snow that held his shed tear.

At that moment, the scenery faded back to the Great Hall, the only evidence of our recent venture being soaked robes and silly expressions on most faces. Still in shock, my hand remained closed around the illusory snow which should have disappeared with everything else, but something remained in my hand. Reluctant to open my hand, I gave my erstwhile party a look and headed immediately to my quarters, hand still clenched and party in tow.

Upon my arrival, I immediately made for my favourite chair, sitting and staring at my hand, wondering how such a thing was possible. Apparently this new magic that Harry tried out has effects almost impossible to predict, but given his feelings about me it's not surprising that I was singled out. Tom, Anubis, and the crow arrived soon after, and they all stared at my hand as I was. Slowly, I opened my hand, and what rested in the palm of my hand was baffling, yet poignant. There, gleaming in the firelight, lay a perfectly tear shaped, unfaceted jewel, a diamond judging by the fire within, but piercing the clarity of the jewel were strands of brilliant emerald and shimmering, almost liquid silver, shifting within the jewel with a life of their own. It took the breath away of everyone in the room, and Anubis leaned closer to get a better look, his eyes widening as he saw the living jewel. As for myself, I was completely entranced by the shifting silver and emerald, which by fluke or design was the same colour as the Killing Curse, the same shade of both Harry's and Salazar's eyes. I looked at the god questioningly, and he just shrugged, as baffled by the phenomenon as I. I suddenly felt the need to escape my normally quite comfortable quarters, and proposed the idea that Harry had offered in his journal. As one, we all decided to explore the lich's hospitality, and after reenacting the scene from Rocky Horror, which just shows his truly twisted sense of humour, we found ourselves in our present location.

I'm not sure whether to be grateful or slighted that the first thing that Vyrrinas offered to help us with was our wardrobes, for as soon as we got situated he escorted our motley crew to the nearest designer boutique, picking out clothes of increasing taste and quality so rapidly that when we all got situated we were being whisked back to the lodge. After a nice long shower, changing into the finest clothes I've ever owned, and being treated to a gourmet meal in his private dining area with all of our band present, I decided to show him the mystery jewel that Salazar's image left behind after the prank. He gingerly took it from my palm and held it to the light, whistling in appreciation. When I told him the circumstances of the prank, he nodded and said that he remembered that night when Harry set up the prank, and that he wasn't surprised to learn of the jewel's origin. He told us that it was perhaps one of the rarest jewels ever to exist, for the only way such a jewel could be created would be for a basilisk to experience a moment of profound grief and sadness strong enough to produce a single tear, which due to their natures and inherent magic turned into such jewels. The reason for the jewel's rarity is due to the fact that it is not within the nature of the basilisk to cry, indeed they are ill suited for the task for they lack the proper tear ducts. Since such jewels are inherently magical in nature, they are incredibly powerful talismans, said to render the wearer completely immune to the basilisk's stare and venom, as well as absorbing any harmful curses or hexes thrown at the bearer, up to and including the Unforgiveables. It is rumored that the tears of a basilisk have other properties as well, more intangible ones, but since they are incredibly rare no one, not even the lich, knows all the properties. As for the few that did exist, they almost never left the basilisk's possession, and none were known to be willingly given to another as this one had been.

Returning it to my palm, he offered to use his admittedly vast artificing skills to work it into some type of artifact that I could keep with me. After a moment, I accepted his generous offer, and he lead us down to his personal sanctum within the mountain, vast passages carved by means unknown to us. It could have been overactive imaginations or basic apprehension, but I could swear that as we walked past a few strange doors I could hear screams, one low and one high, but just when I thought I could hear it clearly it would disappear. We stopped a little further down the hall, near the top of a steep and dark flight of stairs leading even deeper into the mountain, and with a guttural password he opened the door and we filed in. His collection of artifacts, both complete and not, was staggering, and he left us to begin rummaging through a cabinet, muttering to himself. We stood, still silent, until the crow broke the silence with a series of caws. He alighted on a table with a strange looking crystal and began pecking at it, cawing like a fiend. The lich looked up at what the crow was doing, shrugged, and went back to his muttering and searching. This action piqued the curiousity of the strangely subdued god, who was probably in partial shock after meeting another being of comparable powers, and he sent us the mental image of a strange looking rainbow, which connected the thought that was buzzing around in my brain. The object of the crow's wrath was likely the Prism that Harry mentioned, the one that his former friends were going to use to kill more people than any Dark Lord in history. Suddenly the lich cried out in triumph as he pulled a strange looking piece of wire, attracting the attention of everyone in the room. He explained that this setting was perfect for the jewel, and that it would become part of an earring that I would wear. Before I could protest, seeing as I tend to avoid such visible jewelry, he told me that this setting was not one of his creations, but one that Salazar himself made under the lich's supervision. It may have looked simple, but embedded within the wire were many strong protective spells, warding against a wide range of nasty spells and such. I was set to kindly refuse the offer, but the history of the piece struck me, and with sentiment that is not very common for one such as I, I acquiesced to the lich's offer. What he didn't tell me, and what indicates that Harry's pranking does rub off on others, is that there was another charm on the setting that made it unable to be removed by anyone save the creator of the setting, who just happens to be resting in a sarcophagus.

So now here I sit, with a very odd yet pleasant assortment of company, wearing designer clothes that cost more than a year's salary with Salazar's tear dangling, much to the amusement of the company, from my right ear. I have a feeling that I will be assigning many detentions for the students who dare to bring it up, even though my hair does tend to hide it from view most of the time. I find myself not really worrying about such things, for the hot chocolate is indeed everything Harry claimed, and in such a setting it is hard to work up anxiety. I could see why a lich would like to be in such a setting, one could gaze out at scenery far older than even the oldest immortal being, and feel as if the weight of the years was lifted, even if just for a moment. Only Anubis refused the chocolate, but he somehow found out that Vyrrinas's bar held a rather outstanding selection of local and regional beers, and decided to help himself liberally. Such is his level of relaxation that he is even wearing a proper outfit, looking for all the world like a prince of legend come down from his palace to mingle with the peasantry. I think that we will likely spend a week or so here, the steady tourists will keep crow and god entertained, whereas Tom and I will spend time with the companionable lich. I shudder to think what will happen when the god learns about the ski slopes, the mental images of him barreling down the mountain with wild war whoops are both highly amusing and disturbing. Perhaps this change of scenery and company will ease the growing ache within me. I find myself reaching up to caress the jewel ever so often, almost as a nervous habit, and I can't help but feel that he is indeed out there, somewhere, watching our antics and laughing like mad. I think that we can give him a hell of a show, in that regard, given our company. I shall return the toast offered, however late, and wish him good fortune, wherever he might be. Good luck, Harry. I have a sinking feeling that you might need it.


	34. Chapter 33

_Journal entry the thirty-third_

_Hm, a significant number, even though this will not be the last entry. Perhaps I should do something special with this entry. Well, if the muse strikes I will listen. I seem to have reached something of a plateau with my advancing senility, my moments spent lost in my memories happen somewhat frequently but only enough to make me seem eccentric. Currently I am once more in my new favourite chair in Vyrrinas's ski lodge, I know that I do need to return to Hogwarts eventually but I think that I will spend the majority of my remaining days here, only commuting every so often to briefly check up on things. This may seem somewhat out of character for me, since I tend to be an almost obsessive perfectionist, but the simple fact is that I can barely get out of this chair now, and if not for my friend's careful ministrations I would likely be bedridden. As it is, I can walk around for a brief moment of time before tiring, and when seated I still retain full control of my appendages, which is extraordinary and a tribute to the lich's skills. Unfortunately my malady is still incurable, even by one of his power. Wait, I stand corrected, he could cure me but I would have to die first, which is not a fate I desire. I think I'd liefer take my chances with whatever awaits me beyond the pale. I just hope that I don't manifest the soul-walking trait, from what I can gleam from Tom it sounds absolutely miserable. _

_Ah, that reminds me, I recently made an astral appearance at Tom's side, since I don't have the energy to show up in person anymore, and his cause is advancing wonderfully. He is proving to be something of a diplomat, and the Wizarding world is starting to adjust to the idea that the so-called Light has many, many dark spots. Of course, with Tom rising in power and being slowly accepted by the people, the name of Harry Potter has almost become synonymous with the bogeyman. I still receive the Daily Prophet here, mostly to glean a laugh or two, and from the articles I've read it would seem that the public has turned away from the Boy Who Lived for good, crying that he has too much power and has manifested dark tendencies, and therefore will rise up as the next Dark Lord. Hell, there have even been some editorials calling for my death by various spectacular methods, which make me snicker. I've never really cared what the public thought of me, for better or worse, but I still must laugh at the mob mentality. For full grown wizards to advocate the killing of a child, never mind that said child is an adult in all but years, it makes me sick to think that I have humans in my bloodline. Wild as they are, maenads would never consider such an action, elves are far too sensible, and basilisks, especially those of the Naga'im line, consider each life inviolate, advocating killing solely for food purposes or extreme kill-or-be-killed situations. Only humans destroy each other wholesale with little cause save propaganda, greed, or fear. Of course, I have somewhat fed their fear by disappearing from the face of the earth. On my latest visit a few days ago, I asked Sylvain to cease his time as Harry Potter largely due to the risk factor, and after a moment's hesitation he agreed. He's still roaming the halls of Hogwarts, but in different shapes and forms. He took great pride in showing me that he learned how to appear invisible, with not even a shadow cast if desired. He will keep an eye out for me, not only regarding Hogwarts but the rest of the british Wizarding world. Sometimes I wonder how I lucked out in my second year at Hogwarts, that I met a being that has proven a true friend over and over again, unrelenting in his support and understanding. If not for him, I would likely be dead by now. I don't fear for him after my death, I have a sneaking suspicion that he can find some ways to amuse himself. In case you meet him, I feel that I must warn you that despite having lived hundreds of years, in basilisk years Sylvain is still a teenager. A powerful, shape changing, sometimes invisible teenager with a large pranking streak and the ultimate death glare, but still a teenager. I can only imagine the fun he would have with you should you encounter him._

_On a different note, it seems that no matter what I do, fame follows me around, and is as difficult to shake as my shadow. A couple days ago, some tourist recognized me from my time as a rock star, and of course spread the word. At least Vyrrinas's lodge is doing near record business, although he has severely limited their access to my person. To avoid questions, he cast a glamour of health on me so I wouldn't have to do such myself, and he gave me a talisman that, when invoked, would allow me to slip beneath their notice, which in honour of Douglas Adams I will call a S.E.P. talisman. Thanks to this handy little thing I can sit in front of the fire, surrounded by clueless tourists who are all chatting about how excited they are to be in the same place, and how they would love to just have a glimpse of the reclusive star. I love magic. I can even flip them off and hum some of my lyrics, and the only ones to notice me are the lich and his staff, who are intensely loyal to him considering that they are in actuality necromancers in training, who exchange their labour and loyalty for a chance to learn from a being who possesses power to rival even that of my patron. Not a bad lot, really, and they can keep secrets even without a geas. _

_As a matter of fact, I would like to amend my statement of my surroundings, for just a moment ago I looked up and spotted none other than the Malfoys sitting in two plush chairs just opposite mine, completely oblivious to my presence. Of course, this awakened the pranking demon in me, since I simply can't resist such targets. With a couple carefully uttered spells, I began to change their clothes into their respective bedclothes, and once they noticed both Malfoys began looking around for the source of the spell, muttering several counter curses which failed to work. Just to keep them on their toes, I decided to cancel the spell, much to their relief and confusion. Deducing that something they did must have worked, they continued in oblivious blue-blood conversation, giving me yet another perfect opportunity. The talisman that Vyrrinas gave me is in ring form, so quite casually I slipped off the ring once I was sure that only the Malfoys were facing my direction. Their gaze shifted to me, but before they could figure out who I was l raised a finger to my lips in a shushing motion and slid the ring back on, effectively hiding me from view. Now, the talisman is much more effective than an invisibility cloak, since a perceptive person can figure out that a seemingly empty spot is not so. Rather, with the talisman the other people see the object or person hidden, but in their brains they register it at not their problem, and the presence and identity of such are quickly forgotten. For kicks, I did this a few more times, laughing when they began to mutter spells to try to cancel illusions and similar things. The Malfoys are skilled and powerful wizards, but even their combined power could not break, or even seriously test my glamour. Their use of magic did not go unnoticed by my friend, of course, and he approached the father/son team, asking them in a polite yet horribly condescending way to cease their spellcasting or be evicted. They began to protest and hex the lich, but some part of them must have recognized that they would have not even the slightest chance of coming out in one piece, not to mention victorious, and they backed off. We shared a knowing wink and he summoned one of his students/employees to bring me another mug of cocoa, which out of consideration of my weakened state he has cast featherlight charms on. Small wonder I haven't returned to Hogwarts._

_Malfoy taunting aside, I find myself quite content where I now find myself. Of course, 'twould be better if I wasn't so blasted weak, but I must play with the hand I'm dealt. Odd how the tables are turned on so many, even though the wizarding world rallies against me and for Tom, they have no idea what I can do to them if I desired. When I first arrived, I told Vyrrinas all that I could about my childhood, or lack thereof, and he insisted upon taking some vengeance on the parties that wronged me. After some further discussion, I agreed that he would have fair reign with the two remaining Durstleys. Yes, the two adults in that wretched house still existed, I simply had not gotten around to removing them permanently from the picture yet. Vyrrinas promptly summoned them once away from my presence, for fear of causing me any distress whatsoever, and from what I gather he really let loose on them. After he finished with those quivering yet still alive and aware bodies, he turned them into teaching tools for his students. They really are quite talented at their crafts, some of them, for just the other day I saw Petunia's hand scrabbling around just like Thing from the Addams Family show. I saw that and could barely contain my mirth, for if that is what happened to her hand I can only imagine what is left of her now. It's justice, in a way, and once the students eventually learn all they can and get in a decent amount of practice, Vyrrinas will turn them into drudge zombies and condemn them to eternal servitude as janitors. You may be wondering, my dear Sev, whatever happened to the youngest of the Durstley beasts. Perhaps I'll divulge his fate in a later entry, or perhaps not, depending on my mercurial mood. _

_A wickedly mischievous mood I find myself to be in at the moment, so I think that I shall once more unleash the workings of my twisted, SICK brain (hehe, I don't think I'll ever get tired of Tickle-Me-Draco) upon the population of Hogwarts, for laughter is important, as is the destruction of overinflated egos and hyped up senses of dignity. My last prank was rather vague, and to be honest I'm not exactly sure what the results were. I just know that they were spectacular. This time around, I think I'll run with the same type of prank, only a bit more refined and specific. For this one, I will ask something of you, my dear Sev. I'm reasonably sure that if you aren't at least on good terms with the Weasley twins, that you have no animosity towards them, so I ask of you to bring them when you decide to set off the prank. You can reuse the same controller from last time, it will change right after this entry is finished. I know that it may seem juvenile at times, all these pranks that I keep bringing out, but I do have a reason behind my mischief beyond simple self-amusement. As necessary as my final rite is, I'm sure that such an event along with the unpleasant truths that will surface will create a somber, depressing environment throughout the school. Children need to be children, indeed I have sacrificed much towards this simple aim, and I hope that the pranks are breathing some life into the students, allowing them to laugh and play as they should as well as uniting the school. As the Weasley twins can attest, laughter is vital, and to see someone fall to a harmless yet hilarious prank meant in innocent jest can provide this element that I'm sure is lacking. Only time will truly restore the students' spirits, but my antics will at least take their minds off my death and perhaps focus on the ideals that I held in life. That would be my ideal legacy, to have my name untarnished so that those under the Slytherin banner will not face any more trials than other students of their age would normally experience. I may not be a big cuddly teddy bear, but neither am I a monster, and hopefully with my efforts people will begin to realize that. This desire to save my reputation is completely selfless, for if I had no one else who would be affected, I would not give a damn if the Prophet published a picture of me with devil horns and tail. I would pity their ignorance and laugh at their rather unimaginative attempt at slander, rather. _

_The night grows late, and I find my energy being drained away with each passing minute, so I shall find my bed and attempt to get a decent rest unplagued by memories that leave me saddened and reopen long-closed wounds. Ah, how I wish I could find where we were buried, maybe the spectres of the past would leave me alone if I could go visit them, say my piece and try to move on with what's left of the rest of my life. I must confess something, Sev. In my mind, I think that I have fantasized about you to the point where you have become some sort of ideal for me. Perhaps this is affecting my perceptions, for I often imagine your arms around me, holding me tight so I could share the warmth of your body, or caught in a rare laugh when I would surprise you with something, or laying next to me at night, ready to comfort me when I would wake from a nightmare or sad dream. I would like to imagine that you would do such things in real life, but I can't quite trust my observations anymore. What the hell, I'll cling to this idea, even though the reality may be far different. Just thinking of that chokes me up. Damn, I must be getting weak if my shields are this low. It's a good thing that I am some distance from you, at least physically, for you could shred through my shields with your weakest Legilmens, and that would reveal more than I care to let out at the moment. Well, it would seem that I have little else to comfort me besides my fantasies, so I shall embrace them. I wish you a good night, dream Sev, and when I lay awake I will imagine that I am in your arms, and then perhaps things will be alright. Sometimes I would love to know which deity I seriously pissed off to warrant this heartache. Such is a burden I must bear, but do not fear for me, despite my weakness I am still strong enough to bear it. Good night Sev, and I hope your dreams are sweeter than mine. _

I sometimes wonder if I have a hidden masochistic streak deep within me, for to read this journal at times is pure agony. I wish there was some way to rest his mind that under the hard exterior that he has cracked lies the man he imagines. Alas, no time turner could go back quite that far, so I will have to bear with my own burden of survivor's guilt. Really, of all the people to survive past the end of the war, I was one of the most unlikely due to my position. Ultimately, it was only Harry that died in the final moments, although it's commonly accepted that Dumbledore died as well. For all I know, he could indeed be by now, since the only party who would know that answer is remaining silent on the subject. I had long accepted that, no matter what side won the war, I would be executed by the victor regardless. If the Dark Lord hadn't been revitalized by Harry and won as the terrible Voldemort, I would have died due to my proximity to those of the light. Should Dumbledore and his mislead allies have won, I would have been a victim of friendly fire most likely, since I possess knowledge that Dumbledore would not have liked to have been made public. Leave it to the unpredictable Harry to pull option number three out of his hat, indeed the rules never seemed to apply to him, be they man-made or natural. It is a shame that he is not around to witness the outcome of his preparations, for indeed the name of Slytherin is not only being cleared, but being said with reverence by many as his prepared documents come to light. Indeed the pranks are having their intended effect, for once more are the halls filled with laughter and playful bickering, interspersed between focus on their studies of course.

I remember, when he disappeared from sight, there was indeed mass panic that he was going to go on a killing spree, and in perhaps one of the most implausible twists of fate there were those who begged Tom to save them from the potential menace of the renegade Harry Potter. I was actually sent by both parties to try to find him, and despite my thorough search through channels of all sorts I found no trace of him whatsoever. We never thought to search outside the country, for it was accepted as truth that he would be hesitant to leave these shores, or in fact be too far removed from Hogwarts. Even if we had somehow managed to find him in Switzerland, I doubt if we could have done anything to him under the lich's protection, so it's just as well. My orders from Tom were to find him and bring him back, intact, so he could sit down and find out why he had such an apparently sudden change of heart. Dumbledore, in a moment that shocked me at the time, told me to eliminate him if any resistance was encountered. I of course had my own agenda, and my curiousity was somewhat piqued by his actions, for such was not what I expected from a student I thought I knew. My allegiance was with the new reformed Tom, of course, but my goal was to simply find his reasons and see if they were compatible with my own method of thinking. I know now that they were, of course, but my actions mattered for naught, ultimately.

I found myself in a maudlin mood that probably rivaled many of Harry's own when the Terrible Twosome broke the ice quite easily, and for once with minimal property destruction. The crow noticed that I was once more reading the journal, and after reading a bit over my shoulder he flew over to the mantle to fetch the remote control prank controller, cawing to get my attention. As odd as it may seem to address a bird of any sort, this is no ordinary bird, so I asked him if he would be willing to go inform the Weasley twins that their presence was desired for one of the now infamous Journal Pranks, to be set off at dinner tonight. He gave me a sarcastic mock salute and flew off, leaving me wondering how he was going to get his message across with no scroll or verbal skills. Whatever he did worked, for he returned rather quickly with a scrap of paper stating that they wouldn't miss it for the world, and that they had some new products that they would like to work on with Anubis, who was at the time trying to pour firewhiskey into the snow cone machine with the sugary syrup, occasionally growling as his attempts were not as successful as he apparently had hoped. The image of what my quarters would look like should that machine explode passed through my mind with a shudder, and I quickly realized that I would have to somehow keep him entertained. Fortunately it was a Sunday, so I was once more freed of classes, although I was quite surprised at how well behaved he was for the previous week of classes. I interrupted his battle against the snow cone machine and asked him what he would like to experience today. He froze in mid-bash and turned his head to me with a rather discomfiting gleam in his eyes. I began to suspect something when he began to willingly throw on clothes that covered more than the essential bits, and I must admit that I was completely surprised with what he wished to start the day off. He emerged in the same clothes that he wore to the theater, and sent images that indicated that he wished to see what the modern faiths of today were like. In other words, he wanted to go to church, at least to start. I acquiesced to his desire, for it was starting to make sense that a deity who was worshiped long ago would want to see what replaced him.

Once we were suitably attired and the crow had returned, we set off once more to muggle London via Spinner's End, which I really have to spend some time refurbishing at some point. I took some time trying to decide which church to bring him to, and ultimately I decided to take him to Westminster Abbey for not only the religious significance but the history embedded in the very walls. We managed to get there without having too many cars crash into the invulnerable figure of Anubis, and service was starting just as we arrived. He was taken aback at first by all the bodies buried within the Abbey itself, but his need to witness the service trumped his desire to spend time studying the tombs. Amazingly we managed not to attract too much attention despite our late arrival and the large bird riding on my shoulder, and Anubis managed to stay perfectly still throughout the entire service. I've never been a religious man, myself, as most wizards tend to be, for we put our faith in magic and Merlin as a rule. I am far from ignorant of the muggle religions, but my knowledge has been gleaned from books and abstract studies, never from actually witnessing the events. When the service was finished, the crow and I were almost petrified in boredom and the god wore a puzzled look on his face. Before I could try to stop him, he rose out of his seat and made a beeline straight for the priest. Cold dread sank in my stomach, but fortunately all he wanted to do was basically grill the priest about his religion, which he did by writing his questions in classical latin in a notepad I gave him a few days ago. Whatever he was looking for, he seemed not to find it, for he abruptly turned around and left with a dissatisfied look on his face. He was shocked that a religion should contradict itself so much, and that even those attending the church had little or no faith in the religion itself, rather they were merely paying lip service. In a foul mood, I decided to cheer him up by leading him to the tombs, giving him a tour and sharing what history I retain about the more notable men and women buried within. This lifted his mood somewhat as he regarded each tomb and grave with a solemn air, one that unnerved most of the tourists around him who likely somehow sensed that he was not of the same level as they. Several times he stared at the tombs of the kings and queens and smirked, amused by some secret knowledge that only a god of the dead could gleam. I asked him if he would like to witness any other religions in action, and he shook his head no, for he had deduced that, despite the differences in religion, the faith would likely be just as hollow.

Since a morose Anubis is one likely to make those around him pay in some form or another, my mind raced to find a suitable alternative for the day's activities, and this time it was the crow that offered an idea. Since he was pretty much the ultimate tourist, why not visit some of the regular tourist sites, not only for educational purposes but to unsettle the tourists themselves with our unlikely party. Luckily he agreed, still somewhat subdued, and the first place that we decided to visit was St. James Park. When we arrived, there was a crowd of people gathered, all staring at a certain spot. Morbidly curious, we maneuvered into position only to see a rather unlikely and fascinating sight, for it would seem that a pelican decided that a pigeon would be tastier than it's usual diet of fish and decided to snap it up. We watched in rapt attention as the strange and absurd spectacle enfolded, for the pigeon would not go down without a fight, and fought for a full twenty minutes before becoming a part of the food chain once more. We were all rendered speechless by this sight, and numbly we decided to move on, trying to figure out what we had just witnessed. In this daze, we found ourselves nearing the Tower of London, and with some of his usual enthusiasm Anubis attached us to a tour group that gave us the basic tour through the grounds. When the resident ravens spotted the crow, they all puffed up and started to make menacing feints towards us until the crow, which was easily of a size with the ravens, puffed up just as large and let loose with an unearthly caw that almost had an undertone of hissing. If it is possible for the avian face to register surprise, the Tower ravens managed it as they sped away from our little group with the utmost haste. This broke the ice nicely, sending us both into fits of chuckling as we rejoined the now terrified tour group.

The tour itself was uneventful once more until the god stopped in a hallway, staring at the wall until the group was out of sight. Then, before I could stop him, he lunged forward and pressed a seemingly innocuous stone in the wall, revealing a secret passage likely unknown to any living party. I had little choice but to follow the god, with the gloating crow on my shoulder, deep into the Bloody Tower, where no one has tread in possibly hundreds of years. This time, he remembered to light the surrounding area as he plunged into the passage, which was narrow but surprisingly high and in good condition. As we progressed, it occurred to me that since I met the god, I have spent more time crawling around in secret passages than ever before in my life, and I can't help but make the connection. Not that such is a bad thing, of course. We finally arrived at a seeming dead end, but after a moment's hesitation he found the right stone to press and we emerged into a pitch black chamber deep within the tower. Strengthening the Lumos charm, I cast the light throughout the room and what we found took us all by surprise to some degree. From one wall to another were scattered human bones, not only strewn on the floor but hanging from the walls and even a few cages. The sight was one of the most ghastly that I have witnessed, for the earliest set of bones had to be at least a few hundred years old at least, and after a brief moment to gather myself I asked the god if he would mind leaving this chamber with the crow and I, who was just as disgusted by the sight as I. When he nodded assent, I apparated myself and the crow out, and the god followed promptly via portal, for once not pouncing on me as he emerged.

Seeing as it was now somewhat late in the day, and that we were all quite fatigued, at least mentally, by our escapades in London, we decided to return to Hogwarts just in time to meet the Weasley twins at the front gates. They were more than eager to witness the now legendary pranking potential of the journal in action, yet they did not want to warn the potential prank victims that such was coming. With an impressive show of forethought they brought along two invisibility cloaks, no doubt purchased with the profits from their impressively lucrative joke shop, so that their presence would go largely undetected. With the invisible twins in tow, we entered the Great Hall in our customary synchronized manner as if nothing was amiss, yet a few of the students somehow sensed that this would not be an ordinary meal. This time, rather than revealing the controller to view, I decided to keep it concealed in my robes, and with what I'm sure was a satisfied smirk on my face I pressed the button before we even reached the Head Table. Once more the Hall was plunged into illusion, or at least I hope that it was illusion, and we found ourselves in the middle of a deserted yet lit carnival. The students were all dressed in casual clothes bearing all the Founder's colours, and the staff save myself once more were clad in outlandish clown outfits. In addition to the outfits, they were also each placed in a large dunking booth with one target per member, and a large pile of hard rubber balls next to the booth. After the snowball encounter, the students were far less hesitant in picking up the balls, and after only a few seconds hesitation the balls were flying with impressive accuracy and the staff members were falling in the water repeatedly. After a few rounds of playful dunking, apparently Harry thought that the faculty should be on somewhat equal footing, for next to each appeared a tray laden with pie tins filled with shaving cream. It soon became a contest as to whether the professor could throw the pie at the student before the student dunked them once more. It would definitely seem as if Harry is succeeding in his goal to lighten the mood and restore some of the playfulness that should be natural to children of any age.

Once all parties began to tire from the throwing, dunking, and laughing, the room returned to normal once more, and we proceeded to the Head Table, receiving many quizzical stares as it was noticed that we suffered from neither damp robes or shaving cream in odd places. It was hard to keep a straight face with the Weasleys behind us cracking up, and occasionally goosing the god, who took it in good stride at least. We took our meal rather rapidly, the god and crow actually having to keep up with me for once, and they followed me once more to my chambers. I bid the Weasleys good night and retired to my bedchamber with a simple nod to my guests, which for once they took as a sign that I needed a moment's rest to prepare for tomorrow. As I lay in bed, penning my response to the journal, the overwhelming sublime strangeness of the day began to leave, bringing forth the remorse and guilt that I felt when I first read the entry. I can honestly say that, in many ways, I am vastly different from the man I was, the man that Harry knew, yet in many ways I am still the same. With the pressure of being caught between two powerful beings off my shoulders, parts of my personality that I had repressed out of necessity for survival, such as my sense of humour, are now emerging. Amazing, that one man had such an impact, even after his death. I constantly wonder if he can know just how profound his impact was, and would be have been so willing to die if he knew. Such thoughts plague my dreams, regardless of the Dreamless Sleep potions I occasionally take, and I will surrender once more to Morpheus's cold embrace. Who knows, perhaps my dreams will focus on the fate of that pigeon rather than my own depressing thoughts. I can always hope, after all.


	35. Chapter 34

Author's Note: I know that I normally don't do this, but I felt compelled. This monster of a chapter should reward those who have been patient with my random updating schedule quite well. Oh, and the pigeon/pelican incident from the previous chapter really happened, check out the BBC site for more. Enjoy, my freaky darlings.

_Journal entry the thirty-fourth_

_Time is a harsh mistress. Just as I start to feel alive, death becomes an almost palpable force around me, seeping into every pore and filling me with each laboured breath. Living on borrowed time as I am, I suppose I cannot complain too much, and certainly if I hadn't decided to visit my friend the lich when I did, I would probably be little more than a quivering near-corpse lying on the floor of the Chamber, much as Ginny once was long ago. Instead, I know that with each day the force of death becomes stronger, yet I am warm, safe, somewhat ambulatory, and most miraculously of all without pain, of the physical kind at least. At the time, it seemed somewhat selfish to me when I made the deal with my patron for this extended life, but now I see that it really was necessary. With that added luxury, I have helped ensure that Tom is well on the path to vindication, therefore neutralizing the war somewhat and sparing the students the loss of their loved ones. I can take comfort in a piece of knowledge that very few if any people are privileged or cursed to know; the exact date of my death. So even though I can feel myself dying, I know exactly how many days I have left, and to my amazement I still have well over a month. Vyrrinas is currently working on something to revitalize me somewhat, much as he did to take away my pain and the cold that I always felt, and it would take a better man than I to refuse him such efforts. If anyone on this plane of existence can make my remaining time even more comfortable, he would be the one. Ah, if only I didn't view him as something like an older brother, he would be a wonderful choice to ease the pain of my heart as well as that of my body. Even if I wasn't completely smitten by my image of you, Sev, I still couldn't seek that kind of solace with him, the incestual burden would be far too much and such is not how I could think about him. Ah, I wonder what you are doing as I write this. I hope that you are helping my erstwhile descendant with his latest endeavor, ah, but you are a smart man, so of course you are. That strikes a chord within my memories, there remains a bit of my tale from Salazar's days that I have not yet shared. I'm sure you've noticed by now that I am something of a romantic at heart, and quite devoted to whomever my heart would choose as well as family, so perhaps you've thought it odd that I have not mentioned anything regarding my love life as Salazar. If I have a descendant, then such would be more or less required, yet I have made no mention of anyone from those times save my fellow Founders, my blood family, and most recently Vyrrinas. Take a sip of the firewhiskey that I just know you have at your side, I think you'll need it._

_Now, you may think that I am going to launch into a tale of love lost, an epic on the scale of Tristan and Isolde. Well, hate to disappoint you, but such was not the situation. When I first left the druids, before I met my friends, I was a wandering Bard, on a par with my rock star status today. Usually I would pay for my room and board, food, and the ever important ale and pipe-weed with my music, but there were times when I paid, quite enthusiastically, with my body. Women, and more than a few men were often quite anxious to hop into my bed and have me ravish them for most of the night, and I was more often than not willing to comply. After all, I was young, rather comely by most standards, charming, and horny as all hell, so it was a win-win scenario. Even though I would share my bed frequently with women, I knew, somehow, that my future mate would not bear those bits, so I never seriously considered any woman as a potential love interest. I respected them, certes, and grew fond of quite a few, but aside from my bond with Rowena and Helga I never shared anything deeper with women than my physical charms. Even among the males I slept with, I rarely felt anything more than intense physical satisfaction. So, needless to say, I never married, or even shacked up with anyone in that way during my previous life. _

_Most traditionalists would automatically assume that, in order to produce children, such is necessary. Those people never experienced life in the Dark Ages. Quite often, people were willing back then to overlook this supposed requirement in order to fulfill their biological impulse to procreate with as many other partners as possible, due largely to a very high child mortality rate. Questions of birth outside of marriage were only relevant to royal bloodlines, and even then such concern was a shadow compared to the obsession it would later become. Therefore, it was not unusual for women to sleep with as many comely mates as possible to produce offspring, nor was it looked down upon really. Should children result from such an encounter, the community would usually all contribute to make sure that the child would survive, regardless of the circumstances of birth. Why am I giving you this brief history lesson, you may wonder? Well, it would seem that of all the women that I slept with back then, three produced children of my get that survived past the perilous time of early childhood, which was nothing short of a miracle. I did not know I was a father until Helga and I began to round up wizards for our first class at Hogwarts, and we found not one but three children, all within two years of each other, that clearly bore my parentage. They were all happy to have me, not to mention each other, and I gladly shared the protection of my name and rank with them. From that point, until my eventual death some time later, I'd like to think that I was a good father to them. Even though they were full grown when I last saw them, my image of them now is the ragtag youths that I first encountered long ago. _

_Ian was the eldest, and he was one of the most charismatic and level-headed individuals I have ever met. All those that knew him regarded him with awe and respect, for he had that air of authority to him that made people stand up and take notice. Like his siblings, he bore a strong physical resemblance to me, as well as being a parseltongue, but he was heavier of build than I could ever dream of being, with shoulders as broad as those of any belted knight. Perhaps you remember when I described the circumstances of our deaths, I mentioned that I had selected the next Headmaster, but I mentioned nothing else about him save that he was a teacher and was ultimately well suited for the job. I am guilty, then, of a crime of omission, for Ian was the one to rush to my side that fateful day, and it was then that I saw the undefinable quality within him that would make him the most logical choice. Sounds like a touch of nepotism, I'm sure, but that had nothing to do with it. At first, when I recognized the next Headmaster, I was so preoccupied I did not even realize whom I had chosen, and only realized it right before I announced his name. It makes sense, in the long run, that he was the most suitable candidate, for even though two others shared my blood he was the natural leader amongst them. I remember, he took after Godric in many ways, to the point where we all began to joke that if it were possible for Godric and I to have a love-child that he would be the result. I'm rather proud that he took after my friend so much, for Godric was one of the noblest people to ever walk the earth. _

_Younger by Ian by only a few months, as we later deduced, Morgan was temperamentally almost the exact opposite of her brother. She was a energetic, pulsing ball of mischief, but to be around her would be to feel your spirits lighten, and she could nearly light up a room with her smile alone. So close in age as she was to Ian, my friends and I declared that they were default twins, for one balanced the other perfectly. Ian's presence could temper Morgan's exuberance when needed, and likewise when Ian needed to be cheered she would often be the only one to drag him out of his funk. From what I have read, he appointed her as his deputy Headmaster, which could be a reason why Hogwarts continued to prosper. In addition to being almost Puckishly mischievous, Morgan was one of the most clever people around, and was blessed with a photographic memory and a keen eye for detail which served her well not only within Hogwarts, but during her time as the head recruiter of new students in mine and Helga's absence. When she wasn't taking care of her duties as Potions professor (hehe Sev, just think, you're following in my daughter's footsteps, and doing a marvelous job of it) or deputy Headmaster, she was roving the countryside, drawing people to her like flies to honey. I found more written accounts of her than I did of the others, largely due to the fact that she was the first magical encounter for most of the generations of Hogwarts students following our time. If I had to compare her to a modern day individual, I would say that she shared a similar temperament with Tonks, only with more grace and style. From all accounts, the students adored her, and she adored them. _

_Last, but certainly not least, would be my youngest son Emrys, or Rhys for short. Of all the three, he took after me the strongest, to the point where he was almost the spitting image of myself at his age. The first time that I met him, he had me curled around his little finger, and the same happened when he met my friends. He inherited my share of diplomatic cunning, certainly, and was often the peacemaker and mediator among the students. His strength, however, was his ability to innately sense and figure out magic, which easily made him one of the top students every year. There was no spell he couldn't figure out and reproduce with no instruction, and he only needed to be shown something once before grasping it. Like his siblings, he stayed at the school to teach, and quite often he would fill in for other teachers in addition to teaching his own Magical Theory classes. He was always very easygoing, yet under that demeanor he was intensely devoted to the protection of Hogwarts and those he considered family and friends, much like we four were, and continued throughout his life to find ways to ensure peace. Like his siblings, he inherited the talent of Parseltongue, but in addition he inherited a trait that his siblings didn't possess, the ability to take an animagus form, specifically that of a basilisk. In addition to his duties at Hogwarts, he would occasionally attend the Council gatherings, representing not only the school but our family seat, and it is through his bargaining and diplomacy at these meetings that the goodwill of many magical creatures did not die with us. He wrote many treatises on spellcasting methods and new techniques, and in a cruel twist of fate his works were not entirely destroyed when the Slytherin name declined, but those wizards who were assassinating his character were republishing his works verbatim under their names. Some of those books are still standard reading at Hogwarts because of that, which is a very good thing, for he was a truly brilliant mind. _

_Unlike their sire, all three of my children found mates, bore children by them, and lived to ripe old ages even by wizarding standards, which is how my human bloodline has managed to continue all the way through the years. Tom is descended not from Ian's line as you may think, but from Morgan's. Ian's and Rhys's descendants still roam throughout the world, as you can spot on the tree. Hmm, that gives me an idea for an embedded spell. This time I don't think I'll include a prank, after all one cannot become too predictable, but since I'm reminiscing about my family, I think I'll reveal one of the secrets of the tree. As you've become aware, many of the names are written in different colours and languages that seem to bear no rhyme or reason. There is a reason, one I set in place to protect those of my blood in case things went wrong. Originally, the tree was rather straightforward, if hidden. When I rediscovered it in the Chamber my second year, I began to lay enchantments on it, one on top of the other, to obscure much of the actual tree. Say the word 'Slytherin", and two pieces of a stone talisman will appear, one in your possession and one in Tom's. Have Tom smear just a few drops of his blood on the side where the two pieces will join, put them together, set the statue down on the blood-stained spot on the floor right in front of the ouroboros carving, then step back and enjoy the show. You can invite others to watch, if you wish, for I do trust your judgement. _

_Even though I had not planned on becoming a father, I thank whatever deity might be listening that I was such a man-whore in my younger life, for I was gifted with three truly exceptional children, whom I loved more than just about anything. My friends were as surprised as I, but quickly adopted them, accepting them into their hearts readily. I'm just happy that the constant spoiling that they received did not go to their heads,and that they spent the vast majority of their lives happy and well-loved, much like the rest of the student body. Indeed, my friends took to my children and the students as they would have their own, but sadly I was the only one of the Founders to have biological children. I know that there have been families claiming to be the blood descendants of Helga, Rowena, and Godric, but these claims are false. There was always the sense that we had more than enough time, in our long lives, to settle down and sire children once things were stabilized, but that chance was denied to my friends. At least I had the pleasure of having children of my own, and while it wasn't the same I was more than happy to share them with my friends. I'm not so upset about not finding my mate back then, because it is my suspicion that he was still a long ways from being born. Eh, I don't have the energy for subtlety or toying around Sev, so I will come out and share my suspicion that, in yet another cruel twist of fate, that I believe you to be the mate that I felt I would have all that time ago. It is not an accident that our lives were so entwined, I refuse to accept that. Once more, time runs out, and once more I have loved ones to lose. It does not get easier the second time around, despite the popular saying. _

_I can feel myself fading for the evening, but I have energy left for one more spell before I retire for the night. I might be bending the rules of space-time somewhat, but I just can't satisfy myself with the mental image of you as I imagine you to be. When you finish this entry, hold out your hand and a piece of chocolate will appear in your palm. This is your choice, but if you choose to eat the chocolate then when you fall asleep you'll take an astral trip out-of-body. Remember how I would appear when I took astral trips to visit Tom? Well, this will not only be a trip through space but time as well, for after the disorientation fades you will be standing before me, without a physical body but still present. Sev, I know this is asking a lot of you, but the need to know if I would have stood a chance with you is almost all-encompassing. If you choose not to come, throw the chocolate in the fire, and I'll still know, so you don't have to face me if you do not wish. If you do decide to come, I will ask one thing of you. Sev, whatever you may feel towards me, be it love, hate, or anything inbetween, be honest not only with me but yourself. There won't be time for egos to clash, or social norms to be respected, for at most we will have just one night. If you do not wake before eight hours, I've included a termination aspect to the spell, which will send you back to your body. Any longer in astral form can wreak havoc with mind and body, trust me on that. I wish I had more energy to duplicate this spell, but I fear that it is a one-time thing. Should you take the trip, you will arrive whenever I wake up after writing this entry, Vyrrinas's wards notwithstanding. Sweet dreams, my Prince, and I hope that you do whatever feels right. _

Merlin, I'm still shaking as I sit here, two days after reading this entry. Despite the turmoil I have endured recently, I feel better than I have in quite some time, although my comfort comes from a different source. Ah, before I skip too far ahead of myself, I shall recount the events that were set in motion once that chocolate popped into my hand.

As I was reading the journal, my houseguests were occupying themselves quite thoroughly with the still-present snow cone machine, trying in vain to make firewhiskey-flavoured snow cones that still contained the full alcohol content. When that chocolate appeared in my hand, Anubis suddenly stood and came over to me, grabbing my hand firmly and examining the chocolate as if it was some strange alien specimen. I did not even need to tell him the intent behind the confection, for he gazed at me with a very sober, solemn, and concerned expression. I held his gaze, which under the circumstances was an impressive feat, and after a few moments he nodded his head and motioned that he would like to examine the chocolate closer. I acquiesced, and he turned it over and over again in his exceedingly agile hands before looking at me once more, a content smile on his face and a strange gleam in his eyes. Before I could inquire, he sent images and several coherent thoughts through my shields, indicating that he wished to alter the spell slightly. He reassured me that it would still serve its function when he sensed my initial shock, and such was his expression that I agreed silently. He closed his eyes and closed his hand around the chocolate, which for a moment glowed with an unearthly dark light before returning to it's normal innocuous appearance. He then handed it back to me with such reverence that it might have been a treasured holy relic, and gave me a playful wink and reassuring pat on the shoulder before returning to the snow cone machine, which was currently being cursed at in what I assume to be colourful crow-language. Despite the concern I began to feel for the future status of my living quarters given the 'incidents' that tend to happen when they get so involved in a project, I simply sat there staring at the chocolate for some time before rising from my chair. Before I lost my nerve, I popped the entire chocolate into my mouth before heading over to visit Tom in order to share this revelation about the Slytherin family line.

Some of the anxiety that I was feeling must have shown, for when Tom answered the door he immediately ushered me in and poured a rather generous glass of well-aged scotch for me before even asking the purpose of my visit. Taking a minute to regain some semblance of composure, I related what Harry mentioned about the family tree in the Chamber, and from Tom's expression one would think that Christmas had come early. Holding out our hands in anticipation, I uttered the trigger word and promptly, with his usual attention to detail showing, two pieces of a stone statue appeared, one in my outstretched hands and the other in those of Tom's. The statue wasn't the finest piece I have seen, although the details were clear enough. The piece I held was the figure of a young man looking down with one hand resting on his hip, and the piece that Tom received was clearly the base on which the statue stood, and was carved to represent a writhing mass of snakes, with one regal example standing erect, reaching towards the young man's free hand. After a moment's examination, Tom deftly sliced his fingertip enough to release a few drops of blood into the holes carved into the base, and smeared the residual drop across the stone pegs that served as the feet for the statue. Carefully, we eased the statue into the base, and were rewarded when the statue slid home with little resistance. When the blood-smeared surfaces touched, the rather plain statue was suddenly infused with touches of colour here and there, lending a greenish tinge to the entwined serpents and a surprising amount of reddish colour around the neck of the young man. Sharing a glance, we rose as one and immediately set out for the Chamber. Amazingly, we encountered not a soul on our way to the Chamber entrance, not even the usual student or two out after curfew.

When we arrived, however, we were met with a large, slightly inebriated crow that, for some reason, was wearing a miniature strap-on purple party hat with a fuzzy orange ball attached at the tip. If avians can smirk, he certainly was smirking at us as we entered the room. I should know by now that he would be perverse enough to surprise us in such a manner, but we got over the shock quickly and made our way over to the wall bearing the tree. Finding the bloodstain was somewhat trickier, but Tom spotted an area of floor in the right area that was slightly darker than the stone surrounding it. Carefully, we placed the statue in the middle of the stain and stepped back with more than a touch of haste. At first, nothing seemed to happen, for the tree remained as obscure as ever, but suddenly the carving of the ouroboros began to move, opening it's mouth to release it's tail as if yawning. It's gaze immediately turned to that of the statue, and the cold stone eyes began to burn with a sickly yellow glow. Still with it's tail anchored in the stone, the ouroboros extended it's body towards the statue, flicking out a gray stone tongue to investigate further. It briefly glanced at Tom, who held his ground admirably, and seemed to nod it's head. Picking the statue up delicately in it's mouth, the stone serpent made it's way back to it's original resting spot on the wall, touching the statue to a smooth spot on the wall, where it was absorbed completely. As soon as the serpent had returned to it's dormant state, a crest of arms that I recognized to be the Slytherin family standard, albeit an early version, appeared where the statue had dissolved into the wall, and there was a flash of light so bright that it blinded us all, and provoked the crow to share some avian insults with us that, if we wore feathers, I'm sure we would have found devastating. When our sight returned, the family tree was no longer obscured, but clear as day if somewhat complex. Tom released an uncharacteristic whoop in victory and even went so far as to embrace me in a fit of enthusiasm, to the chorus of corvid snickering of course. I must admit, the tree was as impressive as I had imagined it to be, and we stood there for more than a few moments, tracing the family lines that had interbred with the lines of Salazar's children. Tom was rather shocked to find that he was directly related to the Weasleys through Molly, who would be his third cousin. We were aware that the Malfoys had interbred with Salazar's lines, but it was truly shocking to know that Lucius was not a Malfoy by blood, for his mother had taken a lover from Morgan's line but had passed his child off as her husband's. He is still the head of the Malfoy family, for even if he is not the blood heir his claim still stands through adoption, but I can only imagine the fit he would have if this detail were to be revealed. Even more shocking, however, was the revelation that Lucius and Tom shared the same father, making them half-brothers by blood in truth.

With a wry grin, I felt fatigue begin to overcome me and decided to depart to my chambers, so I said my farewells to Tom, even though they went unnoticed so rapt of attention was he, and left with the crow in hot pursuit. The excitement from this latest discovery began to wane as I got closer to my quarters, for in the excitement I had momentarily forgotten that I had ingested the chocolate that Harry spelled to me. My pace slowed as I began to wonder what lay in store for me when I would drift off. I admit, I had spent a goodly amount of time longing to meet with the man responsible for the journal, but now that such a dream was on the verge of becoming a reality I found myself almost paralyzed with equal parts anticipation and stark terror. If not for the crow prodding me in the back with his unnaturally sharp beak, I would have taken quite a bit more time to reach my quarters. The god was passed out on my couch completely starkers as usual, and such was my state that I did not even take notice of this fact. As tired as I was from the day's revelations to that point, I found myself unable at first to drift off. I was hesitant to take a sleeping potion or such, for I was not sure how it would react with the unknown spells not only placed by Harry but by his patron. Eventually, however, sleep finally claimed me despite my worries and insecurities, but unlike most nights I knew that what I would witness was no dream, but a reality set into motion by an extraordinary yet damned man who never wanted more than to love and be loved in peace.

I knew exactly when I had crossed from the waking world into a different plane, for suddenly I found myself surrounded by a greenish swirling mist, and I could almost feel every molecule of my body as parts of me seemed to fade in and out of existence. This seemed to last an eternity, but at the same time it was over in a flash, and when I opened my eyes, which I had closed to keep myself from succumbing to vertigo, I found myself in a rather luxurious bedroom, with a roaring fire in the fireplace and a single large, overstuffed chair placed in front. Scanning the room, I could not find any trace of it's inhabitant, so the chair by default was the only place he could be. I stood there for a second, almost waiting for his almost uncanny deduction skills to come to the fore and welcome my arrival without even turning, but I was met with a silence broken by the occasional sound of laboured breathing. Tentatively, I circled to the other side of the chair, finding that I was quite able to walk and move of my own volition, and the sight that greeted me was absolutely heartbreaking. Nestled among a large pile of blankets and pillows, if not for the sound of his breathing it would have been easy to think he was a corpse. His skin was pale and almost tissue-like in appearance, covered with strange purplish bruises on most of his visible parts. Dark bags gathered under his slightly sunken eyes, which were closed at the moment, and his face was almost skeletal, with no spare flesh to be had. His hand, peeking out from his covers, was just as emaciated, and the skin had split in several places. His hair, normally a thick glossy black with reddish highlights under the right lighting, was dull and straw-like even in the warm light from the fire. I must have made some kind of distressed sound, for suddenly his eyes opened, revealing orbs that remained the same shade as the killing curse, but now glazed over with a slightly crazed look. Remembering what he had done earlier, he looked at me as if I was some type of curiousity at a fair. I have committed this memory to my pensieve, so I will faithfully record our encounter.

After staring at each other for a moment, it was Harry who broke the silence. "You came, you actually came.." His voice was raspy, but still rather melodic despite that. "I truly thought that you wouldn't even make it that far in the journal, let alone ingest an unknown spell cast by a dead man whom you weren't on such good terms with.."

I held up my hand at that, and upon reflection my tone was a bit more snappish than it should have been. "Don't presume, Harry. A lot has changed since your-"

"My death, I know, believe me of all people I know. If things have changed to the point where I'm not your arch-nemesis anymore, then it really was drastic.", he interjected, with both a sarcastic and wistful tone. "Wait, you called me Harry. I don't think you've ever done that before."

I grimaced at this statement, but knew the truth of it. "Yes, I have been more than unfair to you in the past, but given the circumstances and the plots within plots, I'm not sure things could have turned out any different. Reading your journal, it would be terribly improper to still be on formal terms with you. I know that you wished to be known as Salazar, not Harry, but I simply can't do that. Not after..." I paused for a moment, trying to figure out a way to tell him about his friends. "Salazar is the name of the body resting in the sarcophagus deep within Hogwarts, not the name of the person who singlehandedly began the revolution that has started to heal ancient rifts within the wizarding world and removed some of the people responsible for it's near destruction from play."

He paled even more at my statement. "You found us..." His eyes shuttered at this, and a brief shadow of pain crossed his face before returning to his excited yet weary expression. "It wasn't in vain, then. I suppose I should be grateful on some level, very few people can claim to have the impact on the world that I have, not once but twice." He paused here, his eyes staring not at my face but at my shoulder. "Where were we..."

I sighed and reflexively summoned a chair to sit in, moving in close to the bundled figure. Instinctively reaching out a hand, I absently began toying with his fragile hair gently as I recalled those incidents, trying to soothe not only his distress but mine. "The room where you left the manuscripts for me to find, I sat in the chair and quite by accident revealed a staircase that took me to the room. There were four sarcophagi, in the cardinal directions, carved out of solid stone and each emblazoned with a name and crest... " Sadness infused my tone at this point, and we sat there for a moment, each wrapped in our own personal pain, before Harry's head suddenly snapped up and stared at me in wonder. I raised an eyebrow while still stroking his hair. "Something cross your mind, I could swear that I just saw a light bulb over your head."

He continued to stare at me a moment longer before answering. "You're... you're touching my hair. The spell, you shouldn't have any ability for physical contact of any sort." He thought for a moment, and then looked at me with a panicked expression. "Something must have gone wrong with the spell, Sev you've got to go back. Too risky, if I messed up that part who knows what else could have gone wrong.."

Sensing that his panic was only escalating, I carefully took his hand in mine and cupped his chin in the other. "Listen to me Harry, there was nothing wrong with the spell. You're far too much of a perfectionist to entrust my well-being to some shoddy spellwork. No, the reason that I am tangible stems back to something that happened before I left that I didn't quite understand, although I think that when I return I will take him on a shopping spree at Honeydukes. "

Calming down somewhat, he raised an eyebrow at me with what could almost be called a look of jealousy. "Him? Who could have the power to mess with one of my spells, and why did you trust him like that."

I couldn't repress a grin at the expression on his face, and I began to chuckle under my breath. "He is one of my current houseguests, and one that you are at least somewhat familiar with. When you sent us to retrieve your part of the library, we were more or less lead on a guided tour to visit your patron, whom we had a brief, terrifying encounter with. Imagine my surprise when he suddenly shows up in my quarters, wishing for me to serve as a guide for however long his visit may be. "

His jaw dropped at my revelation, and his eyes started to gleam with the same look that Anubis gets whenever he gets a particularly wicked thought. "Anubis, in humanoid form, is staying with you?"

I nodded, grimacing slightly. "You know, you forgot to mention a few details about him, such as his pranking prowess, love of nakedness, and all around silliness. Between him and the crow, whom I believe you are familiar with as well, my life as of late has certainly been interesting, even without the readings from your journal." I grinned and winked at him, a move which apparently shocked him somewhat. "You will be happy to know that they have continued your practice of Malfoy-taunting, to the degree where I think they might be traumatized by life. Although I'm sure they have learned to knock on doors after witnessing Anubis struggling to figure out how to wear a kilt."

He laughed at this, actually laughed, and the movements shook his too-thin frame. "Oh, those two loose in Hogwarts. I think that I actually pity you somewhat Sev." I joined in his laughter, but soon his laughs degraded into coughing, which made him appear even more frail than before.

With a wave of my hand, I banished my chair and extended his chair into a couch. Sitting down at one end at a slight recline, I gently lifted him so that he was resting against me, and began to rub circles on his much abused back. After a few minutes, the coughing subsided and he leaned into me, almost trying to soak up as much of my body heat as possible. I rewrapped the blankets around us so that he wouldn't catch a chill that would make his remaining life absolutely miserable, and rested my face against the side of his. "Harry, if I could take any of this away from you, I would.", I whispered into his ear.

He shuddered slightly at that, and lifted his eyes to look into mine. Whatever he saw in them gave him an expression of happiness and extreme sadness. "Sev, will you forgive me? I know I probably should not have written all those things I did, but even now I can't bring myself to take them out.."

He looked so lost and forlorn at that moment that I did something on impulse that I will never regret. To stop his self-depreciating rant, I leaned down and gently placed my lips against his, not pressing the matter but rather trying to channel all of the repressed affection that I bore towards him in that one moment of contact. Too shocked at first to respond, he leaned into the tender, tentative kiss fervently. When our faces lifted from each other's, I looked him in the eyes and held his gaze. "Do not, I repeat, do not doubt that you are a remarkable man worthy of love. Even though I know that my feelings on the matter are cursed, I cannot help but love you, you insubordinate brat. Yes, it hurts that you are not around in the future, and the thought that your death is imminent at the moment is hard to bear, but it is a pain I thought myself incapable of experiencing. Do not regret your feelings, as I do not mine."

He closed his eyes at this, almost wincing, and relaxed completely against my body, doing a remarkable imitation of a rag doll. "There are precious few regrets in my life, and I could never count love as one of those." He sighs deeply at this, and opens his eyes, a haunted look dimming the normal brilliant emerald. "Even if I could transfer this illness, these burdens, to another, I wouldn't. I've long accepted that my only purpose in this life is that of a tool, a catalyst of change, and as long as the job gets done it doesn't seem to matter that the tool is damaged or broken beyond repair. You, on the other hand, can finally live the free life you were denied by circumstances just as screwed as mine. That... well, it's worth it. It would seem that my lot in life is to sacrifice myself for the ones I love." He started chuckling silently to himself, as if at a private joke. "Yes, love, I wonder why people are doomed to love me, for it usually doesn't end well for them.." His chuckling continued, mixed with shaking sobs as I tightened my arms around him slightly, rendered momentarily speechless by his startling revelations.

"Harry, look at me." Still he remained chuckling, but after a few blinks his gaze cleared and me met my gaze unwavering, a slight feverish look still remaining in his emerald depths. "You wrote about hope, several times in your journal. Brat, I think that you've shared that affliction with me. " I leaned my head down, burying my face in his hair before sighing wistfully. "You've taught me a great many things, the key lesson being that things usually aren't what they seem to be." I shifted once more to kiss him tenderly on his cheek, leaning in close to his ear. "I suspect that you will somehow manage to break the rules of life and death as you have every other set of rules before you. I don't think they apply to you the way they do the rest of us." I smirked against his ear, feeling him tremble slightly as my breath caressed his ear. "Do you trust me?"

He snorted at my statement, somehow making it sound affectionate. "What kind of question is that, I almost have a right mind to be insulted.." He trailed off before playfully and gently slapping the back of my head. "Why do you ask, out of sheer morbid curiousity?"

I smirked at his reaction, for of course he would know that I already knew the question that I had wasted breath asking, and resumed stroking his hair. "It has occurred to me as of late that perhaps some of the events that have transpired after your ritual were not part of your original design. I can't quite piece it together yet, but I think that the true motives of my houseguests may have something to do with this pesky hope I feel. It was not an accident, the series of events that led to their presence in Hogwarts. I think that there is a scheme within a scheme here, and it is my instinct that, whatever their motives may be, they mean no harm. Unless your name is Malfoy, of course. Those pictures turned out wonderfully, by the way. They rest on my mantle now."

He chuckled carefully at this, not wanting to trigger another coughing spasm. "What can I say, I'm a sucker for classic humour such as that." Taking in the rest of my confession, he tilted his head somewhat and I could see his exceptional mind processing what he had just heard. After a moment, he tilts his head to stare into my eyes, a gleam present in them that I had never seen in his eyes before. "Hm, perhaps this hope isn't as pesky a syndrome as I thought. Whatever they plot together, I know that it doesn't interfere with my own workings. You seem to trust them, and since I know you to have impeccable judgment in such things when left to your own devices I will trust your observations." He then graced me with a brilliant smile, free of pain and filled with so much warmth that I actually choked up somewhat. "Of course, I dare not voice my own suspicions, for fear that the fickle nature of fate will be just as contrary as I tend to be. " Gazing at me a moment longer, he leaned forward and brushed his lips against mine, even going so far as to snake his tongue out and run it across my slightly parted lips. In my shock and pleasant surprise, I opened myself to this invasion, and our tongues dueled for supremacy as we shared what was likely the most satisfying kiss either of us had experienced to date.

We broke off gradually and he smirked against my lips, running one slightly shaking hand through my own fine hair. "Hm, it's not greasy at all, I'll have to come up with a new nickname... how about Snuggle Bunny?" He smirked at my horrified expression, and raised an eyebrow in challenge. "Well, you are very nice to snuggle up with, and one of my kinkier daydreams featured you with a set of fluffy bunny ears, so Snuggle Bunny it is." He laughed at this, and even if I had not been paralyzed in horror over my new apparent nickname I would have been rapt to see some life creep back into his frail frame, amusement and joy momentarily taking the place of torment and pain. He laughed at my expression and sat up somewhat, so that now he was sitting in my lap staring down at me with twinkling eyes and a mischievous, challenging look.

I regarded him with some concern, remembering how weak and seemingly frail he was when I first appeared in his quarters. "Harry, I don't want you to overtax yourself, are you quite alright?"

He snorted at my statement once more and sat up straighter, so that he was now straddling my lap in a rather debauched pose. "I just rested for quite some time, and I have found that I can maintain normal energy levels for a decent stretch when properly motivated." He sat there for a moment, smirking down at me, but when he shifted he felt the bulge in my trousers that had been rather persistent from the moment we first kissed. He paused momentarily, but before I could say anything he looked into my eyes with a heated, lustful look. "Sev, I know that's not a wand in your pocket..." His voice, which had been raspy to begin with, was slightly lower in register and slightly breathless.

I felt my face turn bright red, mostly in embarrassment but at least partly in lust. Before I could say anything, he leaned down to give me a rather heated, passionate kiss, and with a shift of his hips I could tell that he was suffering the same affliction that I found myself under. I couldn't hold back a groan at the friction, and when he heard that his emerald eyes began to burn with a fire that only a truly passionate soul can reflect. "Don't you dare apologize Sev." His eyes drooped to half mast as he gradually began to rock himself back and forth on my lap, resulting in some rather amazing friction that left us both gasping and craving more. He leaned forward to whisper in my ear, brushing my lobe with his impressively agile tongue. "I have a secret, Sev, that I haven't shared with anyone. Would you like to hear it?"

Preoccupied as I was with the sensations that were threatening my self control, I could do naught but nod in reply to his query. I could feel his grin against my ear as he teased the moist skin with his breath before continuing. "My dear friend Vyrrinas, one of the many potions he poured into me had an effect that I thought would be useless, until this very moment. Somehow, he managed to neutralize the part of my illness that made me contagious, and he even confirmed it with blood work." He groaned into my ear after a rather enthusiastic moment of grinding, and continued. "One of my greatest fears, and the reason that I did not pursue you this past year was the fear that any kind of...intimate activity would be a death sentence for you." His voice grew even raspier and huskier as I began to realize what he was implying. "You profess love for who I am, Sev... now you can show me just how dear you hold me.." He lifted his head for a moment and reached to the nearby table for a sealed vial, smirking as he opened the stopper. "This potion will, for several hours, rejuvenate me to the point where I would not break from such attentions. Should I take it, Sev, or should I put it back on the table.."

Despite the lust clouding my brain, I could hear the slight tremor of fear in his voice with this last statement, and his body language, despite the arousal, screamed that he was preparing himself for rejection. Holding his gaze, I took the vial out of his hands and examined it with a critical eye. "Rather expertly made, I think that I shall ask the lich to share some of his potions secrets with me." Seeing his slight confusion, I deftly lifted the vial to his lips, which opened automatically in his confused state. Understanding dawned in his eyes finally, and I gently tilted the vial as he drank every drop, groaning as I watched his throat muscles working, swallowing the slightly viscous liquid. I set the empty vial back on the table and watched as he almost seemed to become rejuvenated before my very eyes. He looked at me with something bordering on awe, and I chuckled at his stunned reaction. "The last thing you would ever wish to do was harm me, so I know that you wouldn't make such an offer unless you were completely sure of that fact. And I must confess, you are not the only one to have such dreams.." I lifted my hips at this statement, grinding against his own arousal and groaning once more at the sensation.

Taking a quick glance at our current surroundings, however, I knew that it wouldn't do, so I stood up and, before he could protest, picked him up bridal style and almost made a mad dash for his bedroom. He actually squeaked when I carefully and gently tossed him onto the large, king size bed. He laughed, actually laughed at my somewhat out of character spontaneity and lack of grace, but his mirth quickly turned to lust as I slithered into bed next to him, gently pinning him down to the bed as I proceeded to slowly strip him of his too-large clothing. I felt him tense up as I slid my hand underneath his silk shirt, and he gasped rather loudly as I rubbed my thumb against his hard nipple, teasing it with alternating rough and gentle strokes. As much as I could tell he was enjoying this, his body was still far too tense, so as I slowly unbuttoned his shirt I leaned up so we were face to face. "Harry, if you don't want this, I don't want to force you.." I could hear that my own voice was even deeper and coarser than usual.

He turned his head to the side and blushed fiercely at my statement. "Sev, I want to feel you deep inside me almost more than I can stand, but..." He sighed, and I stopped unbuttoning his shirt so he could focus on his next statement. "It's just that, well, my illness has ravaged my body, inside and out, and I don't want to have you turn away in disgust, or worse show pity..." His voice trailed off in a whisper, and I could see that this truly disturbed him.

When I started to laugh softly, his head snapped up and he looked at me as if I had just grown another head. "Love, I of all people have no reason to be disgusted by scars or such. Really, do you think me that shallow? And I can honestly say that I have never pitied you, because like you such a display disgusts me." To prove my point, I finished unfastening his shirt and quickly pulled it off, before he had any time to protest. His torso was a mass of scars and healing bruises, with no hint of the Quidditch toned body that his image once boasted. Before he could try to gage my reaction to such a sight, I leaned down and reverently swirled my tongue around one of his nipples, caressing the other already sensitive one with my thumb. With my free hand, I began to lightly caress his exposed skin, marveling and drowning in the silky, warm flesh that I was feasting my senses upon. My light touches were quickly overriding any remaining concerns in his mind about my physical attraction to him. Honestly, it would not have mattered if he had three arms and was puce in colour, for I'm attracted to the man within.

I slid my tongue down from his nipple towards his navel, leaving the exposed, wet nub to be caressed by the slightly cool air in the room, and judging from his reaction of almost bucking off the bed when I circled my tongue around his navel, it was clearly one of his erogenous zones. Soon he was panting, and wordlessly begging for more contact, so I decided to show off a skill that I learned back in my early days, when I had first joined the Death Eaters. I took the drawstring of his pants and deftly untied it using only my mouth, and catching the hem in my teeth I dragged his pants down, over his narrow hips until he lay there, fully exposed to my hungry gaze. Throwing his pants to the side, I looked down and the flushed, panting, wholly aroused figure beneath me and for a moment I thought that the surge of emotion that came over me would flood my senses entirely. He met my gaze, and what he saw there threatened to overcome him as well, for he instinctively reached out to me, pulling me down for a heated kiss and groaning at the feel of my clothes sliding over his bare skin. "Sev, too many clothes..", he near whimpered, and with a surprising show of strength he flipped us over, so that I was laying on my back and he was straddling my lap, completely naked, and trying to rip my clothes off of my body. I was too far gone to do anything but help him, and in record time my clothes were in a shredded and torn pile on the floor next to the bed.

His gaze was slowly devouring me as his eyes roamed over my body, which I am glad that I have maintained over the years, but he stopped at my forearm, the one that once bore the Dark Mark but now was perhaps the only bit of skin I had that did not bear any scars. The emotions in his eyes flickered for just a moment, before turning back to my newly naked form with an almost primal lust. He ran one hand down my chest, almost reverently exploring the texture of my skin. A rather mischievous and almost impish grin began to appear on his face as he slid his hand down even further, caressing the soft skin of my almost painful erection with feather touches. "Mmm, if there were any doubts in my mind how you felt about me, they are most definitely dispelled.", he murmured, running his sinfully agile tongue across his lips before sliding down my prone form so that his gaze was level with my arousal. "Sev, would you like to know one of the best aspects of having serpent heritage is?", he drawled, smirking up at me with a glint in his eyes. Before I could answer, he laughed and leaned forward so that his hot breath would torment my erection even more. "No gag reflex, love." With that, he suddenly opened his mouth, unhinged his jaw slightly, and swallowed me whole. Despite his attempt to hold my hips, I did buck up somewhat when I felt his hot, moist mouth and throat suck me in, but he simply laughed around the length in his mouth, sending vibrations so intense that I had to use every ounce of willpower I had to stop myself from coming. By this time, I was incapable of any form of verbal communication save moans, gasps, and the occasional muttered "Merlin..", and was nearly undone again when he began to use his powerful throat muscles to swallow, sending wave after wave of pleasure through my body. He truly enjoyed watching me thrash around on the bed, but with his sharp observation he withdrew my length from his sensual mouth before I crested. He looked for all the world like a cat that was caught with canary feathers still stuck in his teeth, and he slithered up my body so that he was lying on top of my sweat-coated form.

His own arousal had not lessened in the slightest, and a thought crossed through my mind that apparently showed on my face, for he gave me an inquisitive look. With a smirk of my own, I conjured a leather cock-ring and secured it firmly in place around my throbbing length, rewarding me with a raised eyebrow and even more inquisitive look. "You're not getting off that easy, Harry, I plan to have you writhe in mind-blowing pleasure over, and over, and over again..." I whispered into his ear, making him shudder in anticipation. I rolled him over onto the bed on his back, and began to lightly stroke his own chest and abdomen, skirting the visible bruises. With my other, calloused hand I took his erection firmly and gave it one good, long stroke, making him cry out in pleasure. I leaned up, still pumping his length with one hand and toying with the nearest nipple with the other, and kissed him with as much passion as I could muster. Apparently, these sensations were too much for him, and after a few minutes he cried out in purest pleasure and came in copious amounts all over my hand and his abdomen. Now it was my turn to chuckle as I began to trace patterns in the rapidly cooling semen on his body while he came down from what was apparently a very explosive orgasm. His eyes were still hazed over with lust, love, and several other emotions that I couldn't name, and I met his gaze with my own, trying to show him the depth of my feelings.

Still holding his gaze, I slid one semen-coated finger down to his entrance, gently circling and probing the somewhat relaxed hole with my fingertip, and my smirk grew when I saw him start a full body blush. After a moment more of gentle exploration, his arousal began to harden anew, and he began to instinctively push back against my finger. With just the slightest crook of my finger, I struck the magic spot within him, causing him to buck his body nearly off the bed and start involuntarily speaking in parseltongue. Soon, he was panting and pleading with me in several languages, his arousal now hard and leaking against his stomach. Immensely grateful that I had thought to summon the cock ring, I summoned a bottle of lube and, after warming it on my fingers for a moment, began to stretch and prepare him in earnest, still taking the utmost care and taking my time so as not to hurt him as he had been hurt repeatedly in the past. Soon he was almost past the point of no return, begging and pleading for me to give him release. I grabbed a couple of the nearest pillows and slid them under his hips and, after slicking myself thoroughly, positioned myself at his entrance but did not slide in. He mewled in protest, but I captured his gaze and he held still. "Harry, I want to you watch me, don't take your eyes off of mine, love." He nodded and I held his vibrant emerald gaze, pouring as much love and affection I could into his eyes as I could as I slid into him, penetrating him fully on the first slow thrust. The sensation of his tight, hot passage squeezing me like a velvet vice was almost too much, and I'm sure that if I had not taken precautions I would have shot my load right at that moment. I held still for a moment, still staring at him while letting him adjust to my not inconsiderable size, but almost immediately he began pushing his hips back, lust overriding all else in those emerald orbs. It would have taken a much stronger man than I to resist such a signal, and I leaned forward, capturing his mouth as I began to slowly thrust in and out of his tight passage, burying myself to the hilt each time and striking his prostate with every other thrust. Apparently I began to growl slightly deep within my chest, for he smirked and growled in return. "Mine...", I couldn't help but utter as I felt him start to writhe in arousal in pleasure under me, and it would seem that this was quite an aphrodisiac for him, for just that statement pushed him almost to the edge. I sped up my thrusts, now almost slamming deep within him with primal instincts that I just couldn't deny anymore, and I was soon rewarded with him achieving yet another explosive orgasm, hissing in parseltongue as he convulsed in sheer pleasure. As I gazed down at his now supremely relaxed body, complete with silly grin and sweat-slicked skin, I was near overcome with a wave of emotion that choked me up somewhat.

Focusing on me, he noticed that I still had the cock ring in place, and glanced at me with an almost challenging look. "Sev, mark me...", he managed to mutter, and he deftly rolled over onto his stomach, raising his hips and shooting a smoldering look over at his shoulder at me. Unable to resist, I slid back into his still relaxed entrance, moaning once more at the intense heat threatening to consume me entirely. I leaned forward, taking his slim body in my arms and embracing him firmly, rocking into him at just the right angle to hit his prostate every time, quickly sending him back into a fevered state of arousal. Soon he was panting in need once more and driven back to the point where pleasure almost becomes pain, and as I buried my face in the crook of his neck he moaned, "Sev, take it off...". With more dexterity than I knew I possessed at the time, I quickly untied the strap and threw it to the other side of the room. A few fevered, frenzied thrusts and professions of love later, and I was undone, spilling wave after wave of hot cum deep within him as he came explosively once more all over the sheets, his erection untouched. We both collapsed bonelessly to the bed, snuggling into the other's arms after first banishing the soiled sheets with a wave of the hand. For the first time, most likely in the entirety of his present life, he looked at me and gave me a true smile which choked me up somewhat.

For several hours, we lay there like that, embracing each other, sharing all kinds of personal secrets which I am loathe to share with anyone else. Far too soon for my liking, his look clouded somewhat and he sighed despondently. "Sev, the spell is almost spent..." I nodded my understanding and captured his gaze once more. Without saying a word, I pulled him into a tender, affectionate kiss, savouring his taste for a moment before pulling away. "Remember Harry, there might be something to that pesky hope after all..." He looked doubtful for a moment, but amazingly that expression was shoved aside by an actual look of hope, if somewhat tentative. Right after that, I felt the world start to shimmer and shift with a now familiar disorientation, and when I next opened my eyes, I was in my own bed, the silence disturbed now by an odd clanking in my living room. Once I regained my composure somewhat, I sat down to pen this narrative, which has admittedly taken more of my time than I thought. Just writing this has spent me somewhat, so I will retire to my hopefully undemolished living room, so see what has transpired in my absence. Hope. I have to keep hope, for his sake. I just wish it wasn't so damned hard.


	36. Chapter 35

_Journal entry the thirty-fifth_

_Good evening, my dear one. I know not what state you find yourself in after our time together, but I can honestly say that I feel like a new man. For a brief moment, upon my awakening, I thought that our encounter was little more than a very vivid dream, but then I saw your clothes scattered around the room in fragments, and where despair rose for a moment instead rose a perhaps not unfounded hope. I can live out the rest of my days now with relative peace of mind, secure that I am not as delusional or senile as I thought I was. Indeed, as I made my way downstairs that following morning to commence my new routine of tourist-baiting and trying to drink every last drop of chocolate in Switzerland, I apparently wore a very uncharacteristic silly grin that was remarked upon by my friend. Fortunately for us all, he is rather perceptive, not to mention the possessor of a heightened sense of smell, so he asked no questions and instead gave me a warm smile to show how pleased he was. Thanks to a few potions I took before my descent, I was almost feeling halfway decent, and in a moment of uncharacteristic compliance I entered the main lobby in full view dressed in my rock star ensemble, complete with glamours. I actually laughed a bit when the entire room fell silent, and I could tell that Vyrrinas was chuckling behind his hand, so I began my usual routine of parking myself in a chair with a good book and my now ever-present hot chocolate. Almost as one, the crowd went from silence to a loud buzzing about my incredibly rare appearance, yet not a one approached. Finally, one very nervous and starstruck parent sent her very young daughter over to me with a pen and a copy of my only album. The child, of course, had no fear, despite my body language screaming that I wished to be left to my book and chocolate, and went right up to me and politely tugged on my sleeve. After a brief staring match between the two of us, we both began to chuckle and I took the CD and pen from her to give one of my only signatures. She looked at me once more and held out her hands like she wanted to be picked up, so of course I lifted her and sat her on the arm of the chair, supporting her of course, and she began to braid my hair with gusto as I resumed my reading. No one else was able to figure out what had exactly happened between the two of us, but it surely threw them for a loop that, when one would tentatively approach, my erstwhile hair stylist would glare at them and loudly declare that I didn't want to see them. I'm sure there was a huge smile on my face, for she was exactly right, how I don't know, but I learned that little kids often perceive things that their elders fail to see, and probably saw more of my true nature instinctively than I had thought. She even glared at her mother, proudly declaring that she was safe with me and that she wouldn't leave until she was done. With what, I'm still not sure, but the look on her mom's face was priceless. Everyone gave us a wide berth, and the little girl began rambling to me about all types of things while trying some rather creative braids and knots with my hair as I sat and listened to her, sipping my chocolate occasionally. What can I say, I may be a rather intimidating personage when interacting with adults, but children can more or less walk all over me, as long as they do no harm. _

_This continued for a while, but eventually she began to get tired, so I summoned what strength I had and rose, picked her up and took her back to her hotel room. Her mother was still rather stunned that she was receiving such a frosty reception from me while her daughter was trying to burrow her head under my arm, but took the girl back with at least some dignity. I quickly retreated back to my respective corner, cloaking device in place once more, but in a much more positive mood than I have been in for quite some time. I like to think that I'm still basking in the afterglow of our night together, and if I can keep it up I might just enjoy the last dregs of life that I possess, rather than just staying the course, building up to one big bang. Ah Sev, I will admit that I did not think that you would take the chocolate, but I am profoundly elated that you did. You may be a true Slytherin, but what you did involved some of Godric's bravery. Try and deny it all you like, but I know the truth. You, Severus Snape, are just one big snuggle bunny under that tough exterior, and I couldn't be happier that such is the case. If my suspicions prove to play out, gleaned from the bits you told me, well I think that now I have something to strive for beyond my original goals. I won't go into more details, for fear of jinxing myself horribly. _

_Hm, I wonder where my mind should ramble now, which part of my past I have yet to cover. I think that I have done quite a thorough job describing my time as Harry, and I've covered most of the relevant parts of my life as Salazar, so I find myself somewhat at an impasse. It could be some of the clouds returning, but I find myself staring at the page, wondering what I should write to one that I care so deeply for. Oookay, I'm starting to sound like a prepubescent girl, not sure if I like this latest development. Then again, I am technically in a teenage body. Hm, well, it's not like I've ever really cared about what people think about me personally, I think I'll run with it and see what happens. Plus, if anyone dares call me on it, they literally will not know what hit them. Suffer fools, I do not, nor have I ever really. Speaking of which, I think that I'll work in yet another prank, but it won't be what everyone will likely expect, especially since I know about your present houseguests. It's just not fair that they were exempt from all the fun, after all. I'm amazed that you haven't gained any gray hairs from their antics, truly I am. _

_The more I think about their presences, I believe that I might be piecing together their intentions, and if they manage to pull off what I think they will try, then I'm not sure the Wizarding World will ever be quite the same, but for the better. My mind has little else to do than ponder what their course of action will likely be, and it's not surprising that they formed such an alliance. As friendly as I became with Anubis, I never thought that he would take such a personal interest in me as he has. Really, I'm not that special, my skills are just a mixture of blood gifts that I had no control over, after all. Hm, slightly disturbing that I actually think that, I think I still carry around more of Harry's life than I thought. While the vengeance I wreaked upon the individuals responsible for such horrid conditions has by now been enacted, I find it to be an almost hollow victory, for even in the end I'm sure that they never thought they did anything wrong. The point of punishment is to force the people to realize that they messed up so that they could try to change that part of themselves and grow as a person. The whole system is shot to hell if they still think that they were in the right to treat a young child worse than a slave. Not to mention that the damage is done, and no amount of mea culpas will ever change that. Never really saw the point of apologies, really. Yes, it is good to know that someone genuinely wishes to change, but a simple apology, to me at least, is not the all-forgiving balm that so many others seem to perceive it as. Ah, Sev, I seem to be under a melancholy cloud at the moment, very much like the aforementioned teenage girl, but all I need to banish it is to remember how you held me in your arms, tenderly yet with strength, as we lay sated in bed and talked about all those sweet nothings. As fantastic as the sex was (and you were incredible Sev, quite so), I think that was my favourite part of the night, for it erased the fear that all that existed between us was this incredible chemistry. Ah, much better, now instead of gloomy and morose I'm smiling like a fool and getting hornier by the second. It's not like anyone can see me really, I could give myself a good wank right here in the lobby and the only commentary I would get would be Vyrrinas passing me a bottle of lube with a wink and all-too-knowing grin. You know, for a while I toyed with the idea of becoming his apprentice, he always said that I had the knack for artificing, not to mention the artist's eye necessary to create really great works. The world would have turned out quite a different way if I had accepted his generous offer, but I would not for the life of me change my mind about that. _

_I think that someone's been doctoring my hot chocolate, either that or I'm just a bit more susceptible to the aphrodisiac properties of it at the moment, for that idea of wanking in the lobby is starting to sound more and more appealing. Mmm, that would be rather kinky, screaming your name as I erupt all over the coffee table while all the rich tourists and ski bunnies go about their regular business with no bloody clue. It is possible to penetrate my SEP field, but they would need to have strong willpower and a sharp mind with razor-like focus to sense me instead of their mundane, self-centered thoughts. Just as well, it works out wonderfully for me. _

_I know that my entries into this journal keep growing in length, but I think that I will cut this one somewhat shorter, for it's very hard to write with one hand and do far more pleasurable activities with the other, and I'm starting to become clouded by lust. I think I'll aim for the businessman sitting across for me, he's far too smug for my taste, not to mention that the beautiful blond woman sitting practically in his lap is not his wife. It always astounds me, that even though a lot of humans find a well-suited mate they still screw around like that. Sure, it was okay back when the human population was not that large or stable, but now there are far too many humans around, and the need to mate with many different partners to further the species is no longer applicable. For all their noble talk about how far removed they are from the 'animals', they are little better than rutting fools, willing to screw just about anything that crosses their path with little if any remorse. Saying this, I know that you would never do such, Sev, that if you were in a relationship with one that you truly cared for that they would be your one and only. Known that from the moment I met you, I have. I may be many other things, but I like to think that I'm a fair judge of character. Sev, my mate, take care of yourself, for the future might not be the certainty that we have previously resigned ourselves to. Take care, love. Now to work on my target practice._

I know this man far too well now, for the thought of him pleasuring himself in a heavily public place to the point of completion no longer shocks me. I would have been surprised if the idea had not crossed his mind, come to think of it. I will confess, upon my return I treated myself to a nice, long encounter in the shower, screaming his name as visions of his debauched body rose in my mind. This apparently amused my houseguests greatly, although I wish I knew where the french maid's outfit came from in that span of time, let alone why Anubis thought to squeeze into it, stretching that fabric in ways that I am sure it was not designed for. I can say for near certain that such an outfit was not designed to be worn while rolling back on the floor laughing like a hyena on nitrous. Perhaps it is not such a good sign that such sights do not instantly invoke the headaches that they once did, for to be accustomed to such an... unusual situation does not bode well for my state of mind. Since my return, however, I seem to be in a lighter mood than I have experienced for quite some time, to the point where almost all my colleagues are avoiding me like the plague, certain that I have something up my sleeve, and the students gaze at me with an odd mix of fear and girlish glee. Surprise, the greasy git himself can actually smile once in a while, it's not as if it is one of the signals of the Apocalypse. I'm reasonably sure that my hard-won reputation is shredded beyond recognition, but I cannot find myself to care about such trivial things. Instead, I find myself preoccupied by flights of fancy, wondering what the world would be like if even a couple of my suspicions come to fruition. I'm far too much of a cynic still to believe in happily-ever-afters, and have no solid reason to expect such, but I can't help but feel that the true end of this saga has not yet come to pass.

In the meantime, I have little time to overly dwell on such topics, for I still have to play host to two of the most chaotic, mischievous, and devious creatures to ever walk the earth, a task that would make Sisyphus cringe. I have surrendered on certain subjects, such as the tortured and now multicoloured snow cone machine, realizing that my sanity and occasional moments of quiet are worth the strange clankings and bumps that occur when they attempt to work on it. In exchange, Anubis will wear at least some clothing covering the important bits when out in public, which is a rather large concession for him. The crow, well, I had absolutely no control over him before, so that situation remains relatively unchanged. I'm sure that many think that I have developed quite a drinking problem, for almost every night there is at least one empty bottle, and very few believe me when I glare towards the smug, preening crow. I can understand their skepticism, for the sheer volume of liquid should not be able to be retained in an avian body, no matter how oversized. He seems to have developed some level of respect and/or friendship with me, so at least my robes remain unstained. Of course, I have no idea as to the true nature of the thoughts running through their heads, since only a fool would try to use legilmency on either notable personage, but I have little choice now but to roll with the metaphorical punches. At least they aren't nearly as out of control as when both first arrived, indeed Anubis has become something of a celebrity within the student populace, with most of the females and a sizable number of males treating him as if he were the latest teen heartthrob. I doubt if they know his true nature, but I am not entirely sure that it would change their attitudes anyway. Well, at least their hormonal attentions are focused on the ultimate unattainable being, alleviating the inevitable teenage dramas that usually arise within such an enclosed environment. I think that Anubis seems to relish the attention, probably a trait leftover from the days when he had temples and priests worshiping him unconditionally. Whatever keeps his attention focused away from what is left of my belongings and quarters is more than fine by me. Considering the culture and time gap, he's actually adjusted rather remarkably.

Remarkable, indeed. My greatest fear once I took that infamous chocolate was that, once I experienced what I could have had with Harry if our lives had not been so horribly twisted, I would be overcome with remorse, crushing guilt, and depression. Instead I find my mood lighter, mind somewhat at ease, and the ever-present nightmares have been displaced, despite the fact that I know he won't come barging in here any second, throwing himself at me with that impish grin that I once found irritating, which has now become a fond, playful image. I find myself rather surprised that my reaction is the complete opposite of what I expected, and I will admit that I am somewhat nervous with all the variables that have popped up recently in this elaborate, deadly game. I have always resented being a pawn, regardless of who was calling the shots, but perhaps in this game I am one of the players instead, figuring out the rules as it unravels. Not only this, but all the people surrounding me, with the Terrible Twosome being most notable exceptions, no one even suspects that there is far more going on than they perceive. With Salazar's documents and other fresh evidence coming to light, most people are focused on reconciling their preconceived notions with the irrefutable facts that challenge them and blow all such notions out of the water. Even Tom has moved on somewhat, despite the ever-present loss he feels he is successfully overcoming his own past. It would seem that this new game is not meant for the public to participate in, for the only ones that are even aware of it are my guests and I, and considering the nature of the one it is not hard to figure out what the likely end scenario will be. Like Harry, I am cautious to voice my suspicions out loud, for neither luck nor fate have been kind to me, and it would not do to jinx myself, but I can't help but wonder how the wizarding world would be shaken if my hunch should play out. Far be it for me to guess the agendas of gods and crows, but our meetings did not have any aspect of chance about them.

With all this upheaval, his latest prank almost went unnoticed, for it was far more subtle than his previous efforts, but no less effective of course. Previously, his attention was focused on the student and teaching bodies, since he had no clue about my guests. This time, the focus was entirely on them, and I am grateful that they were such good spirits about it, probably appreciating the quality of the prank more than anything. Like before, a controller appeared, but this time the red button was larger and very sparkly. Most creatures are fascinated by sparkly things, and neither was exempt from this rule, so when I set it down on the endtable they both stared at it with supreme fascination. I've mentioned before that Anubis has rather poor impulse control, so it was inevitable that his finger got closer, and closer, until almost unintentionally he pressed the button. They looked rather confused at first, for it seemed like nothing had happened, but then there was a flash of light and suddenly, where once a god and crow stood, rested a bowl of petunias and a strange-looking black towel. This alone would have been enough to satisfy most pranksters, especially with the tribute to Douglas Adams, but then the towel began to rise off the back of the couch and make a strangely muffled cawing noise. In response, the bowl of petunias began to hop back and forth on the floor in an almost excited way. I will admit that I could not keep up my stoic façade and was laughing heartily at their plight. Just as they started to get oriented to their new forms, the flash of light appeared once more and instead of towel and flowers they now wore the forms of a teddy bear and jack-in-the-box, respectively. Still laughing, a note suddenly appeared in my hand informing me that their shapes would randomly flux like that, shifting to mostly harmless shapes, for a full 24 hours. I read this to them, and I did not think it was possible for a stuffed, pink teddy bear to share such a mischievously malicious glare with a jack-in-the-box, but I was proven wrong. Since both seemed to have problems opening doors, I did them that favour and couldn't help a prankishly evil grin of my own as they began chasing each other, playing silly buggers, throughout the halls of Hogwarts with randomly changing forms. As I write this, they are still out there, probably having the time of their lives as I savour a rare quiet, peaceful moment where I can reflect upon my tender thoughts of the most remarkable individual I have ever met. Harry, Salazar, whomever you are, I hope that you can see your handiwork now. Your efforts were not for naught, and as much as my heart does ache I can accept what you had to do for all our sakes. It would seem that hope's ally, faith, has found its way into my heart, so I will sit back and see how this game unfolds. Even if we are not to be reunited in this life, I hope that in the next fate will not be so cruel. Merlin, now I am the one sounding like a lovestruck teenage girl. I will take that as a sign to retire for the night, after my now usual nightcap of course. Maybe this sappy dialogue that I seem prone to at the moment will find itself removed by the dawn. One can hope, I suppose.

_A/N I know that I am not prone to such notes, but rest assured that there are at least two more chapters to go, so for those of you patient with my erratic muse-strikings, merci, and there is far more in store._


	37. Chapter 36

_Journal entry the thirty-sixth_

_Good evening, Severus my love. I find this entry extremely difficult to write, for I fear that this may be the last time that I correspond with you. I have rather enjoyed myself as of late, but the end game draws nigh, and after I write this I must return to Hogwarts. There I will assume, for the last time, the disguise of Harry Potter and put all of my plans, my efforts, into action. I cannot wait any longer, alas, for neither myself nor Hogwarts can stand much longer in our current states. You will notice that this entry is in slightly different handwriting, for I find that I cannot hold a pen reliably for any length of time anymore. Vyrrinas, my friend, has spared me the horror of using a dicta-quill and is scribing this for me verbatim. Ah Sev, right now I wish that this burden was lifted off of me, that I had a chance to win your heart in my own lifetime... but once more into the breach, dear friends. At least this time I won't have to watch the people I care for most in the world die before me. Cold comfort, that. _

_By now, I know that my efforts were not in vain, which helps me quite a bit. I know that no one is quite sure what exactly happened, what my plans were. For once, I will be direct with you Sev, and reveal why I have done such a thing and what I did. Since my return to Hogwarts, you know that I have been steadily preparing for a mysterious ritual, one that would save Hogwarts. I have made allusions here and there, and I know that your mind is more than sharp enough to deduce what exactly I have done if you were to re-read several of the entries, but I will spare you the effort. _

_Throughout the years, after the living memory of what the Founders were really like faded and were replaced with the false dogma that is basic knowledge now, the Headmasters of Hogwarts have, almost to a one, decided that the wards that we placed on the school were not enough, and decided in a fit of ego to add their own, corrupting the living magic of Hogwarts. Now, not to boast, but we were some of the strongest, smartest, and most resourceful wizards likely ever to exist, and our wards were elegant in their simplicity yet surprisingly complex. If they had left well enough alone, then Hogwarts would never have been put in peril. Over the centuries, these spells began to overlap each other, canceling out parts of each other, mutating previous spells, and just generally making a mess of things to the point where Hogwarts was no longer the haven it was meant to be, and very close to becoming a very hazardous environment. Fortunately for us all, underneath all that mess our original wards, including the ones I installed with my dying breath, remain intact. The main focus of this final act of mine is to erase all those spells and wards that obscure our original ones, restoring Hogwarts to it's former glory. I'm sure you've noticed that there is a feeling of peace throughout the building. This act in and of itself is rather tricky, but there was a chance that I could have survived it. Not for very long, given my current physical condition, but long enough that I could have at least made peace with a few things in person. One thing that I have never been, in any life, is a fool, which is what I would have to be to think that future headmasters would not seek to do the same things their predecessors did, and I'm not willing to take the chance that there would be someone there to stop them or undo the damage. No, my final, and fatal part of the spell is to prevent anyone save one of the Founders themselves, not their bloodlines but the actual people, from being able to edit the spells around and in Hogwarts, therefore preventing this situation from ever happening again. Of course, mixed in there are a couple assorted things, such as pushing good ole Dumbles through a portal that happens to open up right in Anubis's playroom, but really nothing of any consequence. Oh, just an asides, since Anubis is there with you, probably drunk and passed out naked on your couch (oh, how that image you painted in my mind makes me laugh), it's a good bet that Dumbledore is no longer in the realm of the living. Of course that won't stop Anubis from having his fun still, since death is not really a barrier for him. _

_There we go, my big secret is out. Normally not even I would be able to channel that large amount of magic by myself, which is why I took such a long time to brew a very tricky potion that I had to invent on the fly. I can't really see how it would help out anyone save myself, but for posterity's sake I did keep my notes, so feel free to check them out at your leisure. I've charmed them to appear when you have finished reading this entry. Ah Sev, this is truly difficult for me. Before, I did not mind dying so much, largely because those that had given me a reason to live were gone already. Now, it is far harder, for I know that I leave behind a chance to be with my mate. Fate, you fickle bitch. Oh well, I've never been a whiner before, this is no time to start. At least I can look forward to the shocked faces that I know will be on the faces of all those assembled. Hm, it will be one hell of a swansong, no encores though. I wonder if there will be a splash zone..._

_Oh how the mind wanders, my love. Despite my distaste at what I am being forced to do to protect those that I have sworn to in the past, how is it that I still feel a tiny spark of hope within me, a fluttering light in the darkness within. Even though I fear this may be the last chance I have to correspond with the man I love (ye gods, I'm reduced to schoolgirl-quality writings once more), part of me clings to the hope that I might still be able to gaze into your rich, dark eyes with my own. Hm, it seems that my part in this play is rapidly coming to an end, which would mean that either we have hit the final act or that other players have roles to fulfill before the curtain falls. Too late now, I've just got to let the dice fall where they may. Hopefully, if there is any justice in this wretched world, I will get the chance to see my fondest desires realized, a reward for a job well done. Heh, I can imagine what it would be like.. "Oh, thanks for going and sacrificing yourself like a masochistic sheep not once but twice, here, we'll throw you a bone and let you be with your mate." Hmph, that would be fitting. Of course, I would likely be the only deceased person to kick whatever entity would dare say that square in the arse, or arse-analogue at least, and run like hell. You know that I would, Sev. I'd probably be laughing like a stark raving lunatic the whole time as well. _

_I know that I have come across as somewhat stoic and sanguine regarding the process, the legendary Slytherin self-confidence about the only thing the press got right, but I will confess, to you and you alone, that I am scared out of my bloody mind. You would never know it to see me right now, but inwardly I feel the cold pangs of fear entwine themselves throughout me. This will not stop me from my task, for I have pushed emotion to the back burner in the past to do what needed to be done, but that doesn't make it any less bearable. Oh, if I could feel your embrace one more time, maybe I wouldn't feel so terribly, utterly alone, which is only emphasized by your old Harry-loathing analogue being near. I know that, while I still love that version of you, that you are still a ways from even considering me in any type of positive light, but it will still be hard to see those eyes, those deep rich eyes of yours clouded with irrational hatred as you would look at me.. Quite ironic, isn't it, that despite my solitude I am quite a social creature underneath. True, I rarely suffer fools, but that just means that I'm somewhat selective of my company, not that I'm the reclusive outcast that I was painted as. Right now, I do find comfort in my friend's presence, but something is missing, can't quite place it._

_Severus, my love. A simple statement, that, but I mean every syllable. I know that you do not pity the lives I have led until this point, and for that I am quite grateful. Damnation, I don't want to say goodbye. I'm just not going to, then. It's not like I have any clue what, if anything, will happen after the spell rips me to shreds. Oh, almost forgot to mention that bit, the reason that no body of mine was found is because part of the sealing spell requires a blood sacrifice, to be absorbed into every fiber of the school. Since I was dying anyway, I included this disease-riddled walking corpse that I call a body at the moment as the sacrifice. In other words, my body, Harry's body, is part of Hogwarts in some way. Not like I need it any longer, I'm sick of all the cold that seeps into these bones. I mean, come on, there's serpent in this bloodline still, and snakes fare terribly in the cold. The only heat that I can recall at the moment is the delicious, searing heat rising from your body, almost intoxicating to one that is perpetually chilled. _

_Damn. Time itself is conspiring against me. My borrowed time is now almost completely gone. Severus, my love, I hope that you were right to plant this seed of hope in me. If this hope falls through, I'll find some way to haunt you. Hah, I could probably give Peeves a run for his money. Ah, wishful thinking, of course I wouldn't haunt you in that way... now, everyone else would be fair game. Well Sev, it's been fun, and at least I can say that I've made a difference both before and after my death. I will not say goodbye, so until next we meet, beloved, I know that you'll keep me close to your heart. I'll add one last spell to this text before I close it out, but now I must throw myself on the altar and Sev, for once hope that the rules don't apply to me. Take care of yourself and those around you, love, as I know only you can. I may be saving Hogwarts, but you have saved me in more ways than one. I can't think of a suitable line to finish this entry out with, but there's a quote that I've been wanting to work in for quite some time. Can't mess with the classics, after all._

"_All the world's a stage, _

_And all the men and women merely players._

_They have their exits and their entrances; _

_And one man in his time plays many parts..."_

_Until next we meet, my dark Prince._

Damn. I knew that this was coming, that there was a finite number of entries, but still... This can't be the end of it. I thumbed through the journal to no avail, the rest of the pages are blank and worn, offering me no solace. I reached up to feel a strange wetness on my cheek, and much to my shock a silent trail of tears was running down my face. For the first time in ages, I found myself completely at a loss, unable to do anything save sit in my chair, clutching the book for dear life and trying not to add to the tear-stains that already mar its pages. Such a position is what my houseguests found me in upon their return from whatever pranking opportunity they found, although so bereaved was I that I barely noticed their presences, a feat in and of itself. I felt a pressure on my shoulder, and I looked up to see Anubis looking down at me with a kind, sympathetic, yet searching gaze, his hand lightly clutching my shoulder. I'm not sure what he saw in my tear-stained face, but he gave me a soft smile, incongruous with his rather intimidating appearance. The crow, former bane of my existence and new-found ally, perched himself in my lap, taking care not to scrape me with his talons, and rested his head against my hand in a very uncharacteristic manner. Smirking very slightly, I took his hint and started lightly smoothing his feathers, which made him almost melt in rapture. Slowly, so as not to startle us, Anubis reached down and gently took the journal from my non-protesting grasp, thumbing through it until he found the last entry. Scanning it quickly, he nods and closes it, setting it on the table next to me. For some reason, that act seemed rather final to me, and unconsciously prompted a fresh wave of tears. I felt his grip on my shoulder tighten slightly, and when I looked up at the god once more he beckoned that I should stand up, his kind look tempered with the spark that both of the Terrible Two tend to get when they think up a new bit of mischief. Rather numb, I move the crow to my other shoulder and stood up, swaying slightly from my emotional state. With an unusually gentle grasp, the god took my hand in his, and after summoning a strange looking bag from the corner began to head for the door, leading me out of my chambers. I was still in such shock that I did not protest, or even struggle in the least as he lead our odd little party out into the hallways. Fortunately, it was a Hogsmeade weekend, and with the relaxed curfew there was no one present in the hallways despite the fact that it was dusk.

I could not begin to trace the route we took, all the passages looking alike as distraught as I was, but when I snapped out of it somewhat I looked around and saw the old tapestry with all four Founders captured in all their glory. I then realized where it was that we were going, but I was still too much in shock to protest as I was dragged into the chamber once more, the crow activating the hidden staircase to lead down into the secret depths of Hogwarts. I did not protest as we passed through the door bearing the large crest of Hogwarts, nor when the sarcophagi were revealed by a deftly cast illumination charm. I had no clue why they dragged me down here, but I did not resist as Anubis configured a chair for me and the crow thumped me on the shoulder hard enough to push me into it. Suddenly, the air in the room changed, the still atmosphere suddenly becoming charged with anticipation. Staring at the god, my mouth dropped open as I saw him as he must have been at the height of his powers, thousands of years ago in the days when he had followers and temples. I could still sense a trace of the exhibitionist prankster I've come to know and appreciate, but now his aura was charged and a solemn, professional look entered his now glowing eyes. He looked into my own bloodshot eyes, and a shiver went down my spine as I sensed the sheer power running through him, but I refused to drop the gaze. Whatever he was searching for in my eyes, he apparently found, for he smiled slightly and bowed his head, nodding slightly. He then turned his attention to the crow, who hopped off my shoulder to land on the lid of Salazar's sarcophagus, and gave a brisk un-birdlike nod. He suddenly scratched himself with his talon, drawing a few drops of blood, and with his blood-stained talon he smeared those drops on the silver serpent emblazoned in the stone. Faintly, very faintly the serpent began to glow, and I just stared as a strange hissing rose from the crow, speaking in a cadence that I recognized to be parseltongue. As if responding to the hissing, the silver serpent began to glow brighter, and suddenly the crow lept off the lid, landing in my lap as a strange grinding began to emanate from the sarcophagus. Slowly, but smoothly, the lid of the sarcophagus began to slide off, not stopping until the lid was leaning against the side, resting on the floor.

In my shocked state, I stood, first placing the crow on my shoulder so as not to knock him to the floor, and took a step towards the now open sarcophagus, not yet comprehending what they were up to. I approached the edge of the sarcophagus and, with a bravery I did not know that I possessed, gazed into the hollow stone. What my eyes found made me apparently groan in almost tangible pain, even though I don't remember ever making such a sound. Nestled in the delicately carved stone was a humanoid body swathed completely in a delicate green opaque cloth, obscuring any features of the body it concealed. I was taken aback as I saw this, for the fabric, as ancient as I knew it to be, looked almost as if it had just been plucked from the loom. Unconsciously, my hand went to the earring that, thanks to the lich, I could not remove if I wanted to, and my unbelieving gaze turned to the god as, finally, a few of the pieces began to fall in place in my shock-numbed brain. With a kind, gentle smile, Anubis nodded his head once and approached the sarcophagus from the other side. A solemn, professional look slid onto his primal features, and with a deft hand he removed the cloth, which despite it's appearance proved itself to be rather brittle, revealing a sight that will truly remain with me to my last days. When the last scrap of cloth was removed, for the first time in over a thousand years the body of Salazar Slytherin was exposed for all to see.

I was expecting, given the age of the body, perhaps a dessicated skeleton if any remains were left, but whomever interred him took great care in the preparation and apparently placed more than a few status spells on the body after healing whatever injuries there were, for he looked as if he had just drifted off to sleep a moment ago. Seeing the founder in person for the first time, I clearly saw the resemblance to both Tom and Harry, although even in death there was an otherwordly look to his appearance that, in life, surely was a factor that contributed to his inherent charisma. I'm sure that, if I were not still numb from the journal entry, I would be likely screaming and sobbing near hysterically, but instead I, in fascination, began to reach a hand out to touch that pale, alabaster skin, only to be stopped by Anubis. I looked at him, a twinge of anger penetrating the haze, but the anger dissipated quickly as he gave me a look that begged my patience. I retreated my hand, and stared in rapt fascination as Anubis's aura began to flare visibly, golden colours swirling about him, and he leaned down, placing one long-fingered hand on Salazar's forehead, the other on his chest. Closing his eyes, he began to emit a strange hum, which seemed to awake some force long dormant as a disembodied, wordless chant began to fill the room. Colours still swirling about him, Anubis cocked his head slightly and suddenly, one of the sparks floating around him began to glow silvery, growing in strength and size until it was almost on a par with Anubis's own aura. Snapping his head back, Anubis suddenly let loose with a primal howl, and the silver glow poured into him, visibly racing down his arms and pouring itself into the Founder's body. The howl made the hairs on the back of my neck rise and a visceral shudder run through me, but I could not tear my gaze away from the now-glowing body of Salazar. The silver energy began to race through him, and before the glow could dissipate Anubis ceased the howl and grabbed a strange potion from his bag, one that curiously bore a seal with the mark of the lich. With a flick of his hand, he removed the stopper and poured it over the body, anointing it with the strange metallic substance. Head bowed, the god closed his eyes once more and, with one deft motion, removed his hands from the body, taking a step back from the sarcophagus.

Confused, I gazed upon the still-glowing body, when suddenly, the glow was completely absorbed. Holding my breath, I held my gaze when, without warning, Salazar's eyes flew open, the brilliant burning green tinged with a touch of yellow. My earring began to glow and warm, and I realized that he was involuntarily exposing his true eyes, his killing-curse eyes, but through a fluke his own gift was shielding me. Hardly believing what I was witnessing, I braved the Stare and gazed into his eyes as his body tried to remember how to breathe. After a moment of holding his gaze, his breathing evened out and his eyes returned to their usual state, brilliant green eyes that seemed to stare directly into my soul. I opened my mouth to say something, I'm not quite sure what, but before I could his lips began to try to move, and leaning closer I realized that there was a dawning recognition in his eyes Through a tremendous effort he managed to gasp my name, giving me a faint smile before his eyes closed and his breathing evened out as he fell asleep, exhausted by even that initial effort. Unbelieving, and now quite past the point of shocked, I turned my gaze towards the exhausted god sitting on the floor, now restored to the appearance that makes Hogwarts run in fear and pant with lust, depending, with a very self-satisfied smirk on his face. He met my eyes for a moment, and sent me images that indicated that it would not be very good for him if he woke up once more surrounded by his long deceased friends. Nodding in understanding, with extreme caution and delicacy I gently lifted Salazar's now-sleeping form from his former resting place, cradling the light yet solid form in my arms.

We made it back to my quarters, all four of us, almost without incident. The hallways were still thankfully deserted, but as we drew close to my rooms we were spotted by Tom and Draco, who were rounding a corner as we passed. I paid them no mind, but the crow shot them a look that very clearly indicated that we were not to be disturbed quite yet, upon fear of avian wrath. If only they knew the crow's true form, they would probably run like hell, but even covered in feathers he is still rather intimidating. During the trip, Salazar stirred every so often, unconsciously grabbing my robes or nuzzling his head against me, but he did not wake, not surprising since I can imagine that returning from the dead is probably extremely exhausting. Once we entered my quarters, Anubis immediately headed for the couch, stripping down and plopping on the couch in a very undignified motion, falling asleep almost immediately. I met the crow's gaze, and we nodded in understanding that we were not to be disturbed as I headed to my bedroom, clutching the infinitely precious being in my arms with more tenderness than I thought myself capable of. I laid him on the bed, gently so as not to disturb his slumber, and stepped back for a moment to gaze upon him as I was too surprised and shocked to do before. In sleep, he looked rather innocent and fragile, not surprising for someone that loves as well as he, and he seemed almost to be a sculpture come to life, elegant features clad in alabaster skin, with glossy blue-black hair fanned out under his head and long, graceful, yet strong limbs stretched out in sheer comfort. Staring for a moment, I realized that he was still clad in his funerary ensemble, and after a moment's thought I decided that it would not be good for him to be reminded of his most recent past right away, so with extreme care I divested him of his robes, revealing a long, lean body with enough wiry muscle to show that he knew what it was like to work. Occasionally, a scar marred the perfect skin, but only enough to add character. I continued to take in the sight, one that I never dreamed that I would be able to witness, when he suddenly began to clutch at the empty space next to him, trying to burrow his head into a warmth not there. Cursing myself, I realized that in my own almost rapturous state I forgot that, even in sleep, he was craving a physical presence for comfort, and with a spell I divested myself of my own clothes and slid into bed next to him. I could have provided that service fully clothed, but I needed to feel his smooth skin against mine, to reassure myself that I hadn't finally cracked. As soon as I slid into bed, his arm slid on top of my stomach in an embrace, and he pulled himself closer, burying his head against my shoulder and breathing a contented sigh against my skin. Not quite believing my good fortune, I turned my head to gently kiss the top of his head before the many shocks I had already experienced caught up with me and pulled me into slumber. I quickly lost that battle, feeling sleep claim me as I returned Salazar's unconscious embrace, and together we lay there, for how long I'm still not sure of, but I was not the first one to wake.

It was dark in the room save for a few candles that I neglected to extinguish when I woke up, but I quickly forgot about them once more when the first thing I saw upon my return to the land of the waking was a pair of brilliant emerald green eyes staring into my own, framed by an elegant, pale face, with a warm, amused twinkle clearly visible. I blinked a few times, for upon waking I was almost ready to dismiss the previous events of the day as an extremely cruel dream, but such doubts were shattered when I gazed into his eyes, shining and twinkling with a spirit that I did not realize I missed that much. With a chuckle, he interrupted my musings, his voice slightly harsh from disuse but no less melodic.

"You know, Sev darling, you look deceptively innocent when you sleep.", he remarked with a sly grin crossing his face, one that I was quite familiar with by now. "Ah, my kingdom for a camera..."

I raised an eyebrow inquiringly, and snorted slightly, knowing the threat to be mostly hollow. "Well, you look downright angelic by comparison, and you've already managed to ruin my fearsome reputation, so go on ahead." I paused for a moment, and with a voice choked by emotion I gazed at him once more. "This is real, not some cruelly twisted dream, right?", I managed to get out, fighting the pinpricks of tears threatening to emerge.

Seeing this, he gave me a rare, warm smile and leaned forward, gently covering my lips with his in a tender kiss. "This is real, Sev. I'm not quite sure how, but it is." He snorted slightly, unconsciously mimicking the one I game him just a moment ago. "Trust me, no one is more surprised than I. But this is real, my love." He lifted one arm and flexed long, graceful fingers experimentally with a wry smile on his face. "I'd almost forgotten what it felt like to move, to live without pain, and what being in perfect health felt like." A chuckle began to emerge from him, and he looked at me with sardonic amusement. "How ironic, that my long-dead original body was in far better shape than my former present-day one. Ian's work, I think, he was always the best at such spells. Why he took the time, I don't know, but I can't help but be grateful..." He trailed off, kissing the tip of my nose in the process. "You know, it's odd.. I wasn't aware during my brush with death, but I think I somehow managed to sense how much time has passed..." A confused look crossed his face for a moment, before he shrugged and dropped the issue. "I'll just ask Anubis tomorrow."

Grinning to myself, I pulled him close, ending his reverie for the moment, and returned the kiss that he gave me just a moment ago. "Mm, I have some questions for him myself, although I find myself loath to leave this bed." I shrugged and winked at him. "Besides, he's currently naked and passed out on the couch once more, and the avian menace is making sure that we are undisturbed. Such peace and quiet is rare in these rooms in recent months, so I'm rather loathe to disturb them."

Salazar laughed at that, a genuine laugh despite his fatigued state. "I'm sure, and I can't wait to witness this state in person." Seeing my questioning look, he gifted me with a mischievous grin. "They're not going anywhere, you know. Anubis has chosen this site as his current temple, I can sense that even now, and his partner has decided to be your familiar. Not to mention that, from what you told me at Vyrrinas's lodge, they are both rather fond of you."

I'm sure I stared at him in fascinated horror as his words sunk into my consciousness. "In other words.." I trailed off, not sure I wanted to finish the statement.

"Yea, in other words you might want to consider expanding your rooms permanently.", he finished, a silent laugh visible in his eyes. "Mm, the question will be rather whom will be the bad influence on whom, for they are both kin of mine, and we share a few traits..." The laugh was now audible, his eyes twinkling like mad. "Congrats, Sev, you're going to be playing host to three of the most prank-prone creatures ever to walk the earth for a long, long time..."

He lay there, laughing and twinkling, until I snapped out of it and, with a smirk of my own pounced on him, pinning him underneath me. I leaned down to gently nibble his earlobe, and his laughter gave way to a content, lustful sigh. I smirked against his hear, and lowered my voice to a lustful whisper. "There are worse futures, my love.." I turned my attentions towards the smooth column of his neck, nibbling lightly while his rising pants and moans encouraged me to go further. I gazed into his eyes once more, something that I don't think I will ever tire of, and the raw need I saw there nearly took my breath away. He raised his hips, and I could feel his own arousal awakening next to my own, even though I could see the fatigue still present in his lithe frame. Smiling, I gave him a gentle kiss that quickly turned passionate, and reached down to grasp our arousals in my own calloused, scarred hand. "Later, love, I'll welcome you back properly." Seeing the lustful anticipation in his eyes, I gave him a tender smirk and lowered my voice as I began to pump my hand up and down, bringing us closer and closer to the edge. "We're both far too exhausted, and I want to take my time, explore every inch of your new body... " I leaned down to his ear once more, reveling in the steadily increasing moaning and nonsense words escaping from him as we rapidly began to near our mutual climax. "... and mark you as mine, my mate, my love, in every way I can..." We both lost the ability to think coherently when, as one, we climaxed, spilling our mixed seed all over my hand, our stomachs, and the bed. I cast a quick cleaning charm and collapsed next to him, our limbs entwining in a mutual need to get as close to the other as possible.

We lay there, sleep almost overcoming us, when a stray thought crossed my mind. I looked at him, unsure on how to verbalize my question, and as perceptive as he is he picked up on it right away. "Yes Sev, I plan to come out, as it were, and let my existence as Salazar Slytherin be known. I have nothing to hide, and I dare anyone to try to stop me from living my newly-restored life surrounded by my mate, my kin, and friends." He began to chuckle once more, a very familiar smirk on his face. "Besides, isn't this the greatest prank of all?"

He looked at me, for a moment unsure how his statements would affect me, but in response I just smiled and held him close. "Whatever you do, you have my full and unconditional support, Sal. Never question that. Besides, it sounds like fun." This earned me a disbelieving stare, to which I responded with a raised eyebrow. "What, don't forget who my guests have been. If anything, they've taught me to appreciate a good prank." Hearing this, he smiled and melted into my arms, falling asleep almost immediately. I gazed at him for a moment, not quite believing my good luck, and followed him into a sweet, restful, deep sleep, where I no longer have to fear my dreams so. After all, the world can wait until tomorrow. Right now, this moment in time, is ours and ours alone, and even though we have a long time to look forward to together, each stolen moment is precious. Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow, after all. Hmph, does he think he's the only one familiar with the Bard? I think not.

_A/N – Never fear my freaky little darlings, one more chapter is in the works, and a sequel has been percolating it's way through my twisted brain. _


	38. Chapter 37 End

Journal entry the first

It would seem that, after many months of writing down my reactions and responses to the now infamous yet retired journal, it has become almost second nature to me. As a result, I, Severus Snape, have elected to continue this tradition with a journal of my own, mostly for my own piece of mind but also because I have been shown how important it can be for observations and ramblings, no matter how seemingly pointless, to be recorded. If it were not for the whim that seized Harry some time ago, our world would be far different than what it is today, and I would likely still be a miserable, cynical terror taking out his frustrations on the students and other professors, if I had even survived the inevitable war. Instead, this morning I woke up in bed with someone that I never thought I would love so wrapped around me and snoring slightly, an act that seem somewhat incongruous with his waking dignity. Still somewhat in shock at my unprecedented good fortune, I laid there for a moment, hesitant to disturb his slumber, and simply watched him, the gentle rise and fall of a chest that, at this time yesterday, was simple dead tissue, more bewitching than I would have thought. I must have made some sort of noise, because shortly after I awoke he began to stir, blinking his brilliant emerald eyes to remove the last vestiges of sleep from them.

When he finally finished with a rather elaborate stretching ritual that can only be done by the supremely flexible and double-jointed, those bewitching eyes fell upon me, shining with amusement and just a hint of naked lust. "Mm, Sev, like what you see?", he rasped out, his voice stronger than last night but still a bit shaky from disuse. A smug, canary-eating-cat grin appeared on his face as his eyes roamed up and down my own naked form, making me very glad that it's a habit of mine to keep myself reasonably physically fit. Noticing my morning erection slightly tenting the sheets that partially cover us, the grin if anything got wider, and he slid one hand down, brushing my steadily growing arousal with his graceful, agile fingers, bringing an involuntary moan from my lips. "Oh, I could definitely get used to this...", he murmured as he began to stroke me in earnest, leaning his head into the hollow of my shoulder and breathing light kisses against my skin as I laid there, writhing under his skillful ministrations. His efforts began to send me close to the edge far faster than I would have thought, and with one deft movement I rolled over, pinning him beneath me once more and savaging his mouth with a searing kiss, one that I poured months of repressed passion into, bringing a moan from deep in his throat as he responded vigorously. Pulling apart, we stared into each other's eyes, the heated passion being sent between them almost tangible, and suddenly Salazar's face broke out into a warm, genuine smile. "I think we're ready to make good on your promise, love..", he trailed off, his voice more than raspy with lust.

These words sent a spike of arousal throughout my body, making my own arousal twitch slightly, but I returned his smile with a grin of my own. "Not quite yet, Sal...", I muttered, hiding a chuckle as I watched a confused look cross his face. "No, this is just removing the edge from our appetites... after all, how can I ravish you all night if just the sight of you makes me react like a hormone-riddled teenager.", I growled, grinding my now throbbing erection against his own, making him gasp from the contact. "Never fear, I'm still going to make you scream in pleasure this morning, moaning and writhing under me as I fill you, but this is just an appetizer before the main course...", I trailed off, smirking to myself as my words seemed to drive him near mad with lust. Hm, who would have thought that the great Salazar would be into dirty talk. Seeing that he was very nearly undone, I wordlessly summoned a vial of oil from my nightstand, opening it deftly and pouring some onto my fingers. Watching my actions, his eyes got impossibly dilated, and I noticed that his pupils aren't the usual round, but more like a cross between feline and human eyes. This just reminded me of who it was that was panting with lust under me, and the thought nearly sent me over the edge. Taking a breath to regain my composure, I removed all sheets from the bed, revealing our forms completely, and slid one hand down between his legs, stroking the soft, slightly yielding flesh there with reverence, and with just the slightest touch his body bucked off the bed, softly hissing in parseltongue. I slid up his body and gave him yet another searing kiss, stroking him with slick fingers, until I could feel his resistance fade away. He was now writhing in lust and passion under me, pushing back on my fingers, desperately seeking more contact, and I am not nearly the cold bastard that I would have to be to deny him. I quickly slicked myself up with more of the oil and slid between his legs, gently pressing against his tight opening with force just shy of penetration. I captured his gaze once more, shuddering from the heat rising from those now molten orbs, and held his gaze as I slowly, ever so slowly slid into him, gasping at the sensation of his hot, tight entrance pulsing around me as, after what seemed an eternity, I was fully seated in him, amazingly without him once gasping out in pain at the sudden penetration. I raised an eyebrow in silent question, and he simply smirked and muttered something about a legendary pain tolerance that was drowned out by a lustful moan as I rocked my hips. I tried to set the pace slow, but as I felt him rock against me, my control was shattered and I began to plunge into him almost desperately, filling him with each stroke, at a rapid pace that we were both craving. He began screaming my name, both in english and parseltongue, and when I wrapped my calloused hand around his rock-hard erection, he screamed near loud enough to wake the dead and erupted in my hand, wave after wave of burning seed coating our now sweat-riddled bodies. His orgasm took me by surprise, and as his muscles clenched around me I was done for as well, crying his name out, although at less volume, as I pumped my own seed deep within him, filling him entirely.

We collapsed onto the bed, each panting as we rose the aftershocks of our mutual very powerful orgasms, when Salazar suddenly turned his head to me, meeting my eyes with his own twinkling ones. "An appetizer, you say? Damn, can't wait for the main course, then... although I have an idea of my own for dessert..." he trailed off, grinning a silly grin that I couldn't help but return. Taking a brief sniff of the sex-laden air, he chuckled and began to rise off the bed, finally standing next to the bed in all his naked glory. I could see now that he was slightly taller than I, with his glossy black hair falling to just below his shoulders in wavy tendrils. Grinning, he let my eyes rove up and down his body, taking in the delicious sight, before clearing his throat. "Sev, darling, as much as I would love to spend the rest of the day in bed with you, I feel in desperate need of a shower...", he murmured, his voice now almost completely restored despite the screaming moments earlier. "Care to join me, love?", he offered with a sultry wink, turning his back to me as he began to head towards the bathroom.

I surprised even myself with the speed that I rose from the bed with, and before he could take a step I enclosed him in an embrace from behind, feeling him lean back against me with a content rumble. We stood there for a moment before his words began to sink into my brain, and I grinned against his neck. "Need help washing your back, Sal? As flexible as you showed yourself to be, you could probably do that yourself.. of course, where would be the fun in that, I wonder." He laughed at this, turning around to me and planting a quick, affectionate kiss on my lips as we walked together to the bathroom. Very little washing got done, although out of consideration for the fact that he likely still wasn't completely restored physically we did little more than make out like students at the Astronomy tower, muttering sweet nothings in a moment that was easily just as precious as our early morning activities. Finally clean, we debated over what clothes he should wear, and with an evil grin he made a beeline for his former possessions, pulling out a skin-tight low-rider pair of black leather pants and a tight t-shirt emblazoned with a Jolly Roger. Eyeing the pants with suspicion, I wondered aloud, "Salazar, how in Merlin's name are you going to be able to get those things on?" He responded to my skepticism with a quick smirk and laugh, and with a wave of his hand enlarged them a size, allowing him to slide them on easily despite his commando state, and with another wave of his hand the pants returned to their natural state, clinging to his long, lean, muscular legs like a second skin, leaving precious little to the imagination. He slid on a pair of well-worn sandals that were at the bottom of the pile, and did a mock runway-model turn for me, giving me a very nice view of how the leather clung to him in every way.

"Well, Sev, I can tell you like what you see.. what can I say, I was never very fond of robes to start with, and since when have I been a traditionalist?", he stated, a wicked grin on his face as a sly look crept into his eyes. "Today will be very interesting, Severus, for I think it's about time that we should greet some of the crowd that I've scented in your main quarters." Seeing my startled look, he chuckled and crept up to me, somehow managing to plant a tender kiss on my lips and smirk at the same time. "Oh, there have been visitors camping out in your living room for hours now, ever since last night, and there are more this morning. Almost makes one wish that one of us would have remembered to place silencing charms on this room, hm?" He laughed at my still shocked and now dread-laced face. "Oh, I cannot wait to see their faces, Sev love..." A concerned look grew in his eyes as he saw my expression. "Severus, I hope you aren't too embarrassed, after all I forgot completely about them this morning until just now, and I just couldn't help myself...", he trailed off, his voice getting softer. "I couldn't help myself, you made me feel blessedly alive..."

I cut him off with a searing kiss and met his eyes evenly, a smirk growing on my own face. "No, I could never be embarrassed about making you scream like that under me... nothing we can ever do would make me feel like that. I was just surprised, that's all." I chuckled as he appeared visibly relieved. "Mm, besides, even if I had known I wouldn't have placed silencing charms anyway. At least two of the people out there would be cheering us on, and the rest deserve a good shock or two. Besides, nothing, and I mean nothing, is going to keep me from you."

He rewarded me with another breathtaking smile and stood, offering his hand to me. "Well then, my little Snuggle Bunny, shall we?" Seeing my twitch at that nickname, he just laughed and kissed me on the cheek as we made our way to the door, throwing it open and entering the real world once more. As soon as I took one step out of the door, I was suddenly bombarded by the avian menace, supposedly my new familiar, whom I could tell had been hitting the firewhiskey heavily despite his sentinel duties. He gave me a wink, something that the bird form shouldn't really be able to do, and immediately hopped over to Salazar's shoulder, cawing frantically and nuzzling/head-butting him as he chuckled and scratched him near the base of one wing, causing him to make a very contented noise. "Hm, you really do like the bird shape, don't you?", he asked the avian menace, to which the crow responded with a very enthusiastic head-bobbing. He then shrugged and lifted the crow back onto my shoulder, nodding in satisfaction. "That... looks right, for some reason." He gave me a sly wink and smile, and then looked out towards the living room, which was not yet visible considering that we had not yet really emerged from the bedroom. "No time like the present, right love?", he stated, and with a come-hither motion of his head we both emerged from the bedroom, walking down the short hallway until we finally emerged in my now-crowded living room.

Someone had conjured extra chairs, since the god was still lying on the couch, fully awake but still naked, and the low buzz of conversation suddenly stopped as we emerged, all eyes focused on the now fully-restored Salazar. Tom, Poppy, Lucius, and Draco all stared in amazement and confusion, whereas the Weasley twins gave us one look, shared a glance themselves, and gave me the thumb's up along with a couple wolf whistles. Anubis simply looked at us, taking in everything, and smiled, seeming rather pleased with himself. Seeing his patron, Salazar returned the look, and returned the smile. "Well, you old dog, you still had a surprise in that bag of tricks. I'm impressed, you managed to collaborate with those close to me behind my back and work out such a complicated plan without me ever having a clue." He laughed, startling everyone in the room, and winked at the god, who was now grinning madly. "You know, I think this should go down in history as the greatest prank ever played. I want details later, of course, but good show, old man." With this, Salazar bowed a rather theatrical stage bow towards Anubis, prompting a wave of laughter from both of them. Seeing them together, it's not hard to see why they hit it off, for it would seem that they are very similar beings at their core. Salazar then turned his attention to the other denizens of the room, mostly staring at him, and gifted them with a smirk that showed off quite a bit of his mischievous streak. "Well, I'm sure you're wondering what in Merlin's name is going on here, and I know that most of you have been waiting here for a while. Personally, I'm wondering why you felt the need to camp out in someone else's quarters for answers that you wouldn't get for hours, if not days had my friend here not taken a couple precautions." Laughing at the sheepish reactions that crossed the faces of all but the Weasleys, who were still grinning and mock-applauding, Salazar continued after first winking at the red-heads. "Well, I suppose I should be flattered that so many people have come to witness my debut, and re-introduction into the wizarding public.." He trailed off, and I could tell that he was waiting for someone to piece together the puzzle.

"Dear Merlin..", Tom finally gasped. "... Harry?" Hearing this, just about everyone's jaws dropped as they turned to Salazar with renewed interest. Sal, in a show of good humour, just laughed quietly. "Oh, Tommy dear, I'll give you points for effort, for you're only partially correct, in a way. Harry, for all intents and purposes, died when he was twelve." Tom paled at that, along with everyone else in the room save those in the know, and after blinking a few times, paled even more as he put together the pieces. "Salazar. Merlin, you're Salazar reborn." If the reaction to mentioning Harry's name was dramatic, then Salazar's name brought down the house. Almost everyone in the room staggered, even sitting, and looked at him with more than a healthy dose of respect and wonder. Only the red-heads were unaffected, and that piqued Sal's attention. "Oh Gred, Forge, tell me, you don't seem quite so surprised by this turn of events. The twins turned to each other and grinned before meeting Salazar's smirking countenance. "Well, it's quite..." "...simple actually, you see..."...we've gotten to know Anubis quite well..." "...and with a bit of research..." "...we found out what he used to be..." "...and we knew he had ties to Salazar..." "...whom we knew to be Harry's real identity..." "...so the only logical conclusion when you were spotted..." "...was that he did something..." "...to bring you back." Despite the somewhat aggravating twin-speak, Salazar grinned heartily at that and gave them a miniature round of applause. "Well done, my lads." He then returned his attention to the others in the room, winking at the Weasleys once more. "I couldn't have said it better myself. Thanks to the efforts of a select few, I, Salazar Slytherin, now walk the earth once more in my original body. I will state clearly right now that this is not a secret, for I have nothing to hide, not anymore."

He then turned to me, giving me a sly bedroom smile. "Sev, love, what day of the week is it?" After a moment's thought, I replied that it was Sunday, which made him smile. "Excellent. Tonight, at dinner, I'll make my grand return to Hogwarts official." His expression suddenly turned serious, and the crowd assembled began to see not the infamous Slytherin, but the real one, the man who helped to usher in an era of peace and prosperity for wizard-kind not once, but twice with little resources save his inner strength and honour. "It's time that the wizards of today were reminded of where they came from, and how bloody lucky they are to not know true deprivation of any kind, or to stifle their inherent natures for fear of being burned, hanged, quartered, drowned, or placed in various torture instruments. " He turned his sharp gaze upon those assembled, prompting even more sheepish reactions from most. "Perhaps some of you still believe the dogma that was spread about me. For those who cling to such laughable beliefs, know that, despite my inhuman heritage, I am far less of a monster than those that you blindly followed for years. When I swear to something or someone, I am bound by it heart and soul, and I have died not once but twice because of such a pact, with my only motive to save those within the walls of this school from devastation. Never have I harmed those who could not protect themselves, nor have I abused my powers for excessive personal gain, not counting using my Bardic skills to make sure that I slept indoors with a real meal in me rather than on the side of the road. Such thoughts are increasingly rare in this day and age. Wizards have, by and large, grown petty and selfish, shirking the responsibilities that come with such power. It's quite the shame that we Founders, best of friends despite our vastly different upbringings, fought and died for ideals that seem to have died soon after we did, making our sacrifices for naught." He paused here, and as he resumed his monologue something about his aura shifted, his charisma almost palpable in the air. "This will change, my friends. I have been given an unforeseen third chance at life, and for once it looks like I have a chance to live it in relative peace and happiness surrounded by friends and the one I love. I refuse, however, to sit back and witness the memory of my friends, who were wonderful human beings, be degraded by a bunch of mewling, selfish brats. It's time for the truth to be revealed, far too much has been lost already. It will take time, but we will fix this. Will you stand by me, and listen to what in your hearts tells you is the right thing to do?" At this, everyone in the room, including myself, nodded in agreement, some with teary eyes as his words struck home. With a smirk, he resumed. "If I had thought any of you would say no, I would have kicked you out before I opened my mouth. Now Poppy,Gred, Forge, I would like to have a moment with my descendants, if you will?" At this, they all rose and left the room, but before departing one of the Weasleys gave Sal a high-five, and the other gave him a medium sized parcel, grinning at him and winking at me before heading out. Curiosity getting the best of him, Salazar quickly opened the package only to burst out in laughter at the contents. Turning to me, he showed me the various flavoured oils, rubs, and assorted sex toys that were crammed into the innocent-looking box along with a note that only had the word "Enjoy!" scribbled on it. "Oh, we've got to send them a thank-you gift for this one, love.", he chuckled, and I couldn't help but smirk and nod as my mind began planning various uses for the unexpected gift.

Setting the package down, he turned his attention to the three still present, all still in a state of shock and disbelief. Anubis, seeing this, decided to liven things up a bit by pointing at the pictures of the Malfoys in their newly-awakened glory, bunnies, sequins, and all, which drew their attention. If I hadn't known how red Draco could turn after several tickling incidents, I would almost be concerned as he flushed bright red. Instead, the matching furiously red blush on both father and son was too much for me to resist, and I started chuckling behind my hand, an action that made Sal grin and join in the chuckling. "Oh, I almost forgot about those pictures.. You see, I happened to be at the same ski lodge, an old friend of mine runs it, and I just happened to discover these... habits of yours one morning when I was wandering up and down the hall making angry peacock sounds. I just couldn't resist..." A sly smirk crossed his face once more at their dawning comprehension. "What can I say, you're just such lovely targets, with enough pride to warrant the occasional dose of humility. " Seeing Tom relax somewhat, Salazar rewarded him with a smile as he decided to sit down on the couch, right on the middle of Anubis's back much to the amusement of both. I rolled my eyes somewhat as I saw the matching grins on both god and Founder, but when Sal patted the 'seat' next to him playfully, I snorted, but after a moment hesitantly walked over. Seeing my hesitation, the love of my life decided to pull me into his arms, which unbalanced us to the point where all three of us ended up in an odd tangle of limbs on the couch through a series of events I'm reluctant to disclose. After some shifting, I ended up on one end of the couch, with Salazar reclining against me in my arms and his feet propped up in the god's lap. "Ah, much better...", he murmured as he did another double-jointed stretch.

Turning his attention to Tom and the Malfoys once more, he rested his head against my chest and focused his intense gaze upon them. "Now, you're probably wondering why I've asked you to stay behind, my dear descendants." His tone turned softer as the solemn, hard air that he wore earlier faded. "One constant that has always remained throughout my life is my dedication to my family, my bloodlines. After the past seventeen years with those.. with the Dursleys as my only family, I never realized how much I missed it." He turned his gaze to Lucius and Draco. "Lucius, you would do anything to make sure your son was safe, I know this because I have witnessed it. However much I may prank or tease you, I truly respect that, and it warms my heart to see that such a tradition has continued down my bloodlines." A sad smirk crossed his face as he continued. "Draco, no matter how much our 'rivalry' escalated, would you believe that I was envious of you? You possessed what I longed for, a family member that would do anything for you, and didn't seem to realize it. Take my advice, do not take such things for granted. I of all people should know..." I held him tighter as I could almost see the sadness radiate from him for a moment, and after a brief pause of nuzzling into my embrace, he turned his attention to Tom once more. "Tom, you were betrayed perhaps the worst of all, and it may sound trite for me to say, but don't beat yourself up over the past. If you had been given a chance to be a father, hell, if you'd had a chance to not have your mind tampered with horribly, you would have done a fantastic job. Even before I removed the damage that the meddling bastard inflicted upon you, I saw a lot of myself in you, traits which emerged fully once you were given a chance. You're a natural leader, with the vision and desire to help those around you achieve a better life for themselves, and I have no doubt that, if Dumbles had never existed, you could have turned the tides and cleared some of the Slytherin name by yourself. I do regret the missed opportunity I had to get to know you, since our time together mainly consisted of conflict, but I'd like to seize this second chance, my Heir." With this statement, he extended a hand, which was promptly taken by Tom as they shared a heartfelt handshake which brought a sad, yet sincere smile to both men.

After another rather impressive stretch that would make a circus contortionist proud, he looked up at me and gave a wolfish grin. "Well, now that I've said all I wanted to at the moment, I just realized that I am bloody starving. Shall we raid the kitchen, love? After all, I haven't walked the halls in this body for a very long time." Taken aback for a moment at the sudden subject change, I cursed myself out for not thinking about that, which made him smile. "Sev, it's alright, I'm not made of glass.. besides, I was distracted quite pleasantly for most of my waking time." He leaned up and gave me a quick peck before sliding off the couch with a grace that would shame most professional dancers. "Hm, is it time for breakfast or lunch..." With a quick wave he summoned a wordless Tempus charm, noticing that it was already about time for lunch. "Well, shall we then? I'm almost hungry enough to eat a hippogriff." I quickly rose from the couch, as did his descendants and even Anubis, which for some reason sent the crow into a fit of cawing laughter and put a rather amused grin on Salazar's face. "Oh really, no need for such synchronized haste. Between Ian's, Anubis's, and Vyrrinas's efforts I feel better than I have in ages, and I am in my prime after all. A little hunger won't hurt me. Besides, if I know the house elves, they'll take great pleasure in shoving the food down my throat." Chuckling still, he led the way out into the halls, yet waited for me to catch up so we could walk side by side.

The trip to the kitchens was not as uneventful as our previous trip, as there were groups of students roaming throughout the halls. Salazar, of course, simply smiled and nodded in greeting to those that stopped and took notice, and I could already hear the rumour mill start buzzing before we were out of earshot. We made a beeline for the kitchens, and upon our arrival suddenly all the house elves paused in their tasks, staring at Salazar in rapt fascination, and then lept into action, fawning all over him and near pulling him to the nearest table, which almost instantly began to load with food. Taking all of this in exceptional good humour, he looked over to me and patted the seat on the bench, calling me into the middle of the house elf frenzy. Finding that I was rather hungry as well, in addition to being unable to resist Sal's summons, I sat down next to him and watched in amazement as the house elves seemed to pile almost every scrap of food in Hogwarts on a table that actually started to groan from the pressure, all the while welcoming Master Slytherin back. Perhaps even more amazing than the quantity of food that the house elves were laying before him was that Salazar was actually making a dent in it, eating as if he had never seen food before, much to the delight of the house elves. At my wondering gaze, Salazar actually stopped eating long enough to flash me a wolfish grin and a devilish wink. " Maenad appetite meets elven metabolism. Rather impressive, isn't it?" He chuckled as I continued to watch in awe, picking at my own food as he easily consumed three times what I did without even straining the skin-tight leather.

Finally, he sat back and nodded appreciation to the house elves, who were each staring in rapt adoration. Rising from the table, I quickly followed suit, and as we left the kitchen I looked to him inquiringly. "So love, what do you have in mind next, provided it doesn't involve consuming all the food for the students?"

He laughed at this and rewarded me with a gentle kiss, which turned into a casual embrace with him leaning against me for support. "Sev, I need to see them...", his voice suddenly lowering to a near whisper, and I immediately realized where he wanted to go. I held him tighter and kissed him softly on the cheek. "Let's go, then," I replied, "but we're turning back the moment I think you're in too much distress. We have all the time in the world, now, love." He nodded in agreement, breaking the embrace but still holding onto my arm, unconsciously asking me to escort him down.

On the way to our destination, we encountered several more groups of students, most of whom were already buzzing in curiousity about the unfamiliar man clinging to their new favourite professor, but unlike before we paid them no mind, focused rather on our task at hand. Once more, we passed through the tapestry, which made Salazar pause for a moment as he became momentarily overwhelmed with nostalgia, and once more the secret stairs were revealed. Salazar grew silent as we progressed, finally staring at the overly large seal of Hogwarts emblazoned on the door. "Sal, we don't have to do this now.", I whispered in his ear, despite our seclusion. He shook his head slightly, a sad smile overcoming his feature. "I think I do, Sev." I sighed at this, but nodded my head once and opened the door for him, revealing for the second time in the past twenty-four hours the final resting place of the Founders.

We entered the room together, since I refused to relinquish physical contact with Sal, and I could tell from his quick intake of breath that he needed all the tangible support he could get. He took a step forward towards the center of the room, and gazed at all three intact sarcophagi for what seemed like an age before turning his gaze to the fourth, the lid still off and fragments of the green shroud littering the surrounding floor. Oddly enough, this seemed to bother him less than the three intact ones. With a reverent touch, he traced his fingers over all three signet animals, closing his eyes briefly for each one and sighing softly. A sad smile finally reaching his face, he turned towards me and gazed at me with those brilliant emerald eyes of his. "Sev, I've been thinking about it, and I think I know why I was brought back." My curiousity piqued, I tilted my head for him to continue. His smile stayed on his face, although there was a gleam of moisture in his eyes. "You, love. I was brought back because of you." I made a shocked noise at this revelation, which resulted in a trace of the smirk returning to his noble features. "I think that, if you had not shown love towards me after my revelations in the journal, Anubis would have likely let me pass into the afterlife. He would not bring me back into a world where I was denied a chance to be with one I loved, and be loved in return. In his position, I would do the same thing." He chuckled at this, shaking his head ruefully. "I'll bet you just about anything that the reason that Sylvain befriended/terrorized you in the first place was to scout the situation, using his judgment to decide whether the god's presence was needed. After that, it was just a matter of waiting for you to finish the journal before taking action." He chuckled wryly before gazing at the final resting places of his first friends. "Hallie, Ro, 'Ric, I renew my vow to protect what we created. Rest in peace, my friends, for you have earned it."

We stood there for an interminable moment in silence after his vow, but the instant I saw his vigilance start to wane I pulled him into an embrace that said more than any words I could have formed at the moment, and with a final glance we left the tomb, Salazar clinging to me almost as if his life depended on it. Once we emerged from the stairwell, I pulled him into a passionate kiss, dispelling the tension that was almost palpable by that point. "Mine..", I growled into his mouth, which prompted a needy, longing moan that rose from deep in his chest. This bit of reassurance seemed to me just what he needed, for when he looked at me once more I could see naught but peace in his eyes. "Yours, Sev...", he drawled in perhaps the sultriest voice I could imagine. With a shared glance, identical smiles appeared on our faces as we left the dusty, ancient corridors of Hogwarts, pausing in our egress only to take down the tapestry, which made Sal give me a curious look. I gave him a playful wink that would surely shock even those students who now near worship me. "It would be a shame to let such fine handiwork languish here, after all. Besides, not everything from your past should be left behind, I think." This statement shocked him somewhat, but then he turned to me and threw himself into my arms, kissing me frantically, taking the occasional moment to whisper sweet nothings in my ear.

I turned to Sal with an inquisitive look on my face as we emerged into the somewhat populated hallway. "Well, love, where do you wish to go now? There is still some time before dinner, after all." He chuckled and shot me a quick smile. "At risk of showing my age, I find myself in need of a brief nap... basilisks and humans both tend to rest after heavy meals, after all." He stifled a yawn, and hiding chuckles of my own I started leading us back to my quarters, which were blessedly empty save for the dozing god and crow on the couch, an empty bottle of firewhiskey on the floor and, for some odd reason, a pink sparkly thong clutched tightly in the crow's beak. Turning to each other, we both shrugged and let that subject lie for the near future, heading instead for the bedroom.

Almost as soon as the door opened, Sal pounced for the bed, landing on it with far more grace than I could summon, and fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow, literally. Chuckling at his surprisingly childish enthusiasm, I reclined in bed next to his slumbering form and lay there, reveling in the simple act of watching him sleep. As my eyes rested on his classically elegant form, I kept thinking about his words down in the Founders' tomb, his theory regarding his return to the land of the living. I couldn't help but admire his intellect and perception, for as I pondered it the theory made more and more sense. A brief stab of fear ran through me as I considered what would have happened to him if I had not fallen hopelessly, at least at the time, in love with him. To think, the fate of this incredible man rested in my hands this whole time, and I was unaware, caught up in a game divinely complex. Steadying myself for a moment, I purged this now unfounded fear from me, for now that he was back there was no way in hell that I would let him be taken away. Pulling his deeply slumbering form against my own, I lay there with him, taking in his scent, his warmth, and just his presence with newfound appreciation.

We lay there easily for a couple hours before he began to stir once more, a contented smile crossing his face as his eyes focused on me once more. "Merlin, I needed that.", he muttered as he stretched in impossible configurations once more, making me actually crane my neck to figure out where certain body parts began and ended. He raised an eyebrow at me inquisitively, which I returned with my trademark smirk and no small amount of lust. "Oh, nothing really, I was just trying to figure out how you can go from a human pretzel to normal shape so quickly. Well, that and flashing on certain pages in the Kama Sutra..." Seeing the momentary daze that my statement created, I took the advantage and pounced, covering his body with my own and ravishing that delectable mouth. His surprise lasted for just a split second, but he soon melted under my ministrations.

As I pulled up for air, a Cheshire Cat-style grin appeared on his face. "Hmm, Sev, I think we need to get our hands on a copy... and after we exhaust every single position repeatedly, we could start improvising..." I groaned at the mental images that his words were conjuring, and with him writhing under me in a rather seductive manner my body could not help but react, our mutual arousal clouding our minds in a lustful haze. I began removing his clothes near frantically, but with more self control than I could have claimed to possess at the moment he stilled my hands, a mischievous smile on his face. "Mm, Sev, tell me, how adventurous do you feel right now?" Seeing my inquisitive, lustful look, he expounded on his rather enigmatic statement. "Oh, it's just that I have the sudden urge for a change in scenery... I don't believe that Minerva is in the Headmaster's Office at the moment..." I think my jaw actually dropped when I realized what he was inferring, but I must say that the thought made my arousal spike even higher. Wordlessly, I nodded, and with a wave of his hand he somehow managed to transport us both soundlessly and smoothly directly into the office, still entwined but on the floor. Grinning, he slid out from under me as I got my bearings, deftly locking the door with one wave of his hand, and with another wave vanished every scrap of clothing on his luscious frame, leaning against the desk in an incredibly seductive come-hither pose that I don't think any living, breathing soul could resist. I rose to my feet and seized his all-too-willing body, lifting him so that he was now sitting on the desk, his long legs wrapping around me eagerly as I met his searing gaze. "Mm, Sev, you have no idea how many times I fantasized doing this with you back then.. not counting the mind-blowing sex, the shock on Dumbles' face alone would have been priceless...", he murmured into my ear, his voice now lower-pitched and raspy with lust. I could do naught but groan as the image planted myself firmly in my mind, and after a quick lubrication spell I plunged into him, impaling him fully. He moaned and began rocking his hips, the mental images apparently affecting him as well, and taking the hint I began thrusting faster and faster, lifting him almost completely off the desk each time as he was calling my name rather loudly. Soon, we both came undone, the taboo nature of our location only serving to drive our lust to new heights, and as we rested against each other, panting from our frenzied coupling, we heard a tentative knocking at the door.

After quickly summoning our clothes, Sal got a mischievous grin and took a sniff of the air, almost bursting into laughter as he signaled to me that Minerva was the one just outside the door, and was quite puzzled that her temporary office was sealed. An idea began to form in my head, and solidified when I noticed Sal activating another secret passage from the room. Crossing over to him, I shook my head, grinning at his slightly puzzled look and whispered my rather wicked idea into his ear, earning me a shocked, but immensely amused look. In my mind, since we have nothing to hide, we shouldn't skulk around like students after curfew, so with a quick, shared glance and smirk, I unlocked and opened the door, allowing Sal to exit first. Minerva, as it stands, was directly out of the door, and her jaw dropped in such a manner that the gargoyle would have been envious as we strode out, both winking at her as we held onto each other's arms, without offering a single word of explanation. As soon as we got to the main hallway, Sal couldn't hold it in anymore and doubled over in laughter, which I shortly joined him in, earning more than a few strange and scared looks from the passersby. "Oh dearie dear, Sev, they really have been a bad influence on you... and we have to do that more often.", he managed to get out inbetween gasping laughs. Grinning in a way that would make even Anubis proud, I helped him up and straightened his clothes a bit more, covering his freshly-fucked look somewhat, which earned me a highly amused glance. Pausing for a moment, I checked the time and noticed that, with our rather eventful day, the dinner hour has drawn near, which somehow makes Sal's amused grin even wider. "Hm, I think a wardrobe change is in order, I do want to make and entrance after all.." With his statement, we headed back to our chambers, still empty of all save the snoozing god on the couch, who stirred after taking a deep breath of the sex-laden air that I'm sure is following us around. I paused for a moment as Sal headed for the bedroom, and turned to the god, who was stretching in a manner that almost put Salazar to shame. Almost. Meeting his eyes, I bowed my head in sincere appreciation for his effort and extended my hand. With a genuine smile, almost out of place on such a wild-looking being, he took my hand and accepted my gratitude with a grace one can only find in the otherwordly. He then rose off the couch, finishing his stretching, and beckoned with his head that I should head into the bedroom.

Taking his cue, I entered to find Sal stretched out on the bed completely starkers with a sullen yet amused look on his face. Finding his eyes, I raised one eyebrow in question as I tried to keep my lust in check, seeing as he wanted to make his entrance at dinner and there was not nearly enough time for the delay. He snorted and looked at me with a wry grin. "Oh, never mind me, I know that to make the proper effect that formal dress robes are needed, but I'm just stalling somewhat since I hate wearing those bloody things. Besides, I want to see what you're wearing so we won't clash." Smiling at his endearingly domestic request, I began to look through my wardrobe only to hear an amused snort from behind me. Glancing at Sal, my curiousity was piqued as I saw the same wicked look in his eyes that I was accustomed from seeing from the Terrible Two. "Ohhh, I wonder what Anubis would look like in dress robes... I'd want all our little party to coordinate of course. Sylvain's basic black colour scheme goes with everything, of course, but I want jaws to drop..."

Remembering my earlier efforts at getting the god to wear any type of clothes, I visibly paled as my eye began to show a nervous twitch from the memory. "Sal, I wish you the best of luck with that, but I will have no part of that ordeal. Once is enough, thank you." He began to chuckle at my reaction as I shook my head ruefully. "Then again, if anyone can achieve what is thought impossible, you can." With a mischievous grin still planted firmly on his face, Sal watched as I rummaged through my somewhat limited wardrobe, muttering about how I don't usually play dress-up like this when I came across the robe that Sal gave me as one of the journal gifts, which I had not yet worn due to a noticeable lack of proper occasions. Taking it out, I held it up and heard an indrawn breath from behind me as Sal recognized his own handiwork. A sudden fit of mischief came over me, and I made my undressing and donning of the robe a bit slower and flashier than they really needed to be since I had such an appreciative audience, and when I finished I met Sal's gaze and was almost overcome with the loving look that filled those emerald orbs. "Hm, well, I think this will do, since you're so determined to have us match. Now, as much as I do adore the sight of you naked and sprawled on our bed giving me that look, I somehow doubt that such is the impression that you want to leave on the entire student and faculty populations tonight." A sly smirk began to creep upon my face as a truly wicked idea passed through my mind. "Besides, it's not as if you have to wear the robes for very long, for the moment we get back to our bedchamber I will strip you of every piece of clothing and welcome you back all night long... " His eyes glazed over at that thought, and with near inhuman speed he stood and waved his hand, muttering a few words I didn't recognize as the robe began to form around him.

Even I, already aware of his beauty, was stunned by the end result as he gave me an experimental twirl. Like every other piece of clothing he seemed to own, the floor-length robe was snug around his torso and hips, flaring out near his feet, and was made out of a shimmering ebony satin that flattered his slim silhouette. In the right light, a swirling pattern of alternating textures woven into the satin itself became visible, which complemented the rather intricate embroidery quite well. Rendered in green silk and what seemed to be pure silver thread, a pair of carefully embroidered snakes formed an intricate celtic knot pattern throughout the coat, with the heads facing each other on the front just along his collarbone, complimenting the mandarin-style collar. Combined with the shimmering, swirling satin, the snakes almost appeared to be moving, a disconcerting effect to be sure but quite mesmerizing. Around his neck he wore a small silver ouroboros pendant on a delicate, almost invisible chain, on his left index finger he wore his ever-present signet ring, and on his right index finger he bore a large ring that I had just realized he had worn this entire time yet had never really noticed, likely due to my recent focus having been on other parts of his anatomy. The ring was the seal of Hogwarts, but an earlier version than we were accustomed to, with the four signet animals, rendered in silver and gold accordingly, resting on an unsegmented field composed of intricately laid stone fragments, with emerald, lapis, onyx, and ruby intertwining. The work was so finely done that I could almost see each individual feather, scale, or hair of the signet animals. Leaving his hair unbound, it fell in glossy waves to his shoulders, curling slightly near the end and blending in with the swirling satin. Taking in my silent worship, he smirked in an endearing way, which I did not think possible, and gave me a mock bow. "Ah, I'll never get tired of rendering people speechless, it's quite the ego boost." Laughing as I stuck out my tongue in a quite uncharacteristic gesture, he looked towards the living quarters and flashed me a toothy grin. "Well, time to get the rest of our party ready... care to watch?" With that, he gracefully swept out of the room as I remained momentarily entranced by his appearance, but once his words sunk in I quickly followed him, a vengeful grin on my face.

As I entered the living room, the first thing that struck me was that everything still seemed to be intact and in place, showing no signs of a struggle. Such was my amazement at this fact that it took me a moment to notice the now fully dressed figure of Anubis standing next to Salazar in the center of the room, but when I turned my focus to him my jaw dropped. Somehow, without any struggle or tantrums, Salazar managed to get his patron into a nearly transparent linen ensemble eerily reminiscent to the ones worn by the figures in ancient egyptian tombs, the creamy ivory colour perfectly complimenting his golden complexion. A band of cloth draped over one shoulder, showing his, well, godly body off quite well, and the kilt was bound at the waist with a thick golden cord, draping almost to the floor in pleats. As usual, he decided to go barefoot, but on his forearms he wore a pair of golden bracers, completely covered in raised hieroglyphs, and around his neck he wore a heavy golden necklace that rested flat against his broad chest, with lapis, emerald, onyx, and ruby stones laid in intricate patterns throughout, perfectly complimenting Salazar's ring. Two heavy golden earrings, shaped as ironically appropriate jackal heads, adorned his ears, and surprisingly he decided to compliment the whole ensemble with bands of black kohl around his eyes, completing his outfit quite nicely. Staring at the two side by side, even I couldn't help being struck speechless once more by the unquestionably regal yet vastly different figures before me. Salazar smirked and glided over towards me, giving me a quick peck before meeting my eyes. "Sev, dear, I thought you said it would be hard to get him to wear clothing, all I did was ask him if he would dress up and he summoned this ensemble himself." Hearing this, I shot the god an accusing look, which made him laugh in his almost barking tones and shrug helplessly. Rolling my eyes, I just shook my head when I realized that one member of our party was still missing.

Almost as if reading my mind, a scary thought in and of itself, the crow suddenly burst into the scene, still clutching the pink sparkly thong that he had before but with something else clutched firmly in his talons as well. He deposited his burdens on the table and hopped up onto my shoulder, once more pulling off a smirk with a face that really shouldn't be able to. We all looked at each other, daring anyone to be the first to investigate, when Salazar decided to make the first move. Picking up the pink sparkly thong with one finger, which we could now see was emblazoned with the words "Diva In Training" across the front in silver sparkles, he looked at the crow in silent question, and in a flash of shared inspiration we all turned our heads to the images of Draco and Lucius on the mantle. Realizing who the likely owner of said thong likely was, Sal reflexively threw it across the room and shuddered, making the crow start his cawing chuckle. Hiding my own smirk unsuccessfully, our eyes dropped as one to the other part of the bundle still on the table, staring at the crumpled blue fabric as if it was about to attack. Noticing that neither Anubis or Sal were about to move, I grabbed the much abused fire poker and used it to pick up the bundle, which proved to be a pair of royal blue satin boxer shorts with the phrase "Who's Your Daddy" printed across the front in elegant white script. As one, we turned to the crow, who somehow managed to look innocent and utterly wicked at the same time. Looking at each other, we silently agreed to not get involved in whatever the hell the crow's latest activities were, and after checking the time we decided to start making our way to the Great Hall, Salazar in the lead. Quite a sight we were, I'm sure, especially since the crow wouldn't stop snickering in my ear, making me twitch ever so slightly each time.

By the time we reached the doors of the Great Hall, dinner was already in full swing judging from the level of ambient noise, making Salazar pause for a moment. Looking back at us, he gave us a tender smile and nodded once, and turning his attention back to the door, a truly wicked glint found its way into his eyes as he sharply waved one hand at the doors, throwing them open with impressive force. The sudden sharp sound of the doors flinging open made everyone pause in their conversations to look towards the source, creating an almost deafening silence as Salazar strode proudly in, never faltering in his gait as he made his way to the Head Table, turning every head along the way. I stood there for a moment to watch him, and even I was awestruck as I viewed his truly noble personage in his full glory. With a nod to the rest of the party, we strode in somewhat behind him, Anubis and I walking side-by-side with the crow vigilantly perched on my shoulder. As striking as our own presences might have been, especially that of the god, we were near invisible compared to the dynamic, gorgeous, regal presence that was Salazar at that moment. Reaching the Head Table, he turned around, robes swirling as he faced the students, all of whom were staring up at him in rapt fascination with a healthy amount of awe mixed in. Realizing that Salazar needed everyone's full attention for his task, we decided to withdraw to the side, leaning against the wall to remove any potential distractions. Scanning the crowd with his emerald eyes, glowing slightly with the ambient light, he paused for a moment to allow everyone to become accustomed to his striking appearance. The silence stretched for what seemed to be an eternity but in reality could not have been more than just a few minutes, and with a slight nod of the head Salazar stood before his rapt audience and began to speak in his rich, slightly raspy, yet commanding voice.

"I hope, my dear students, that you will forgive my interruption of your evening meal, but know that I would not do so without proper cause." He paused here for a moment before continuing, an impish yet charming grin appearing on his face. "Indeed, I know that I have been spotted several times today, and I know that the rumour mill has been running rampant as well, a fact that I well anticipated. Rather than keep you on your toes, drawing out my inevitable reintroduction to ridiculous lengths, I decided to just get it out so that we can all move on with this new chapter of our lives, something I confess I am quite looking forward to. First, however, I shall tell you about how I came to be here, which is a reality that was only foreseen by two and made possible by three souls present at this moment, and one that is not." He took a deep breath, appearing to steady his nerves to soothe his audience somewhat, for I knew him to be quite the opposite, using the spotlight for his maximum personal gain. "I had been absent for the wizarding world for quite some time when I finally became aware once more in a different body than the one I possess at the moment, and I must say that I was truly saddened by the state that the wizarding world had fallen into. Concepts which, in my time would have been ludicrous, ruled people's hearts and minds, sending wizard against wizard in a longstanding and ultimately futile civil war. Discriminating against fellow wizards because of their bloodlines, or lack thereof, all this pureblood nonsense, light and dark magic becoming synonymous with good and evil, these are concepts that have paved the way for the turmoil that reached it's peak just a short time ago at the supreme cost of a student's life."

He paused once more, letting the solemnity of the reality sink in, and a few of the students and faculty actually started weeping, stopping only as he held up his hand. "Yes, the cost was high for such ignorance, but do not blame yourselves overly much, for the majority of those involved committed this act in ignorance of the truth, following the dogma presented by authority figures on both sides blindly." The sobbing ceased completely with this, but a sadness persisted to cover those assembled. "You may wonder why I am the one offering to ease this burden, when I confessed earlier to being from a time different from this one. I, however, am the only person who has the right to offer such to you, for I was the one to pay that price just recently, using my dying breath to cast spells designed to protect and eliminate the damage that has accumulated to our school over the centuries." Shock now appeared on everyone's face, yet none fainted despite the few that were swaying. "Yes, the life that I awoke into after those centuries was none other than the one of Harold James Potter. For all intents and purposes, the separate entity of Harry never really existed, the entire time it was really my own self reincarnated within my own bloodline. Even though my personality and mind were intact the entire time, my memories unlocked in that body when I was 12, and it was then that I first sensed the enormity of the damage done to the institution that my friends and I lived, worked, and died for all those centuries ago."

Once more, a pause to let this information sink in, although I don't think that everything he said sunk in, for I'm sure there would have been a few more awe-struck faces. "For those of you who have not yet figured out my identity from the clues I have presented you with so far, let me introduce myself properly. In my first life, when I wore the body I currently wear at this moment, I was known far and wide as Salazar Slytherin, one of the four brave wizards who fought to provide untold future generations with opportunities that we were ourselves denied. We four embraced a concept that seems to be largely extinct in this day and age, the idea that there are things to fight for that are larger than our own selfish, petty desires, and that those with the power to do so have an obligation to use that power to fight for the survival of the species and protect those that cannot protect themselves from such forces." If the silence seemed deafening before, it was absolute now. A sly grin appeared on Sal's face before he continued. "I am well aware of the lies that you have been force-fed about myself and my friends, which is why I took the initiative to start dispelling such notions even from beyond the grave, sharing some of my experiences and tales of our exploits to show that we were nothing like your preconceived notions. Certain facts remained true, such as Rowena's love for learning, Helga's amenable nature, and Godric's sense of honour, but I'm afraid that the only notion that proved accurate of me was my ability to speak parseltongue, largely due to an extensive smear campaign some time after my death. I will overlook such ignorance in the past, for no one had cause to know better, but I will be sorely disappointed if such concepts persist now that the truth is known."

A solemn, slightly sad look crept into his eyes as unknown thoughts passed through his head, and it took all my self control to keep myself from racing up there and taking him in my arms. "Indeed, it would be quite saddening if my intentions were so misconstrued, for I have made the ultimate sacrifice not once, but twice to make sure that the students and all those that dwell within these grounds have the chance to live and learn in a peaceful, equal, and safe environment, regardless of their background or those of their families. I have sacrificed more than most can even comprehend, and with my newfound and unexpected third chance at life I will continue to uphold the ideals that we four swore to hold dear. I always keep to the vows I make, for such is my nature, and I have proven myself in this aspect." Almost as one, sheepish and ashamed looks crossed most of the faces present, something that made Sal affect a small, heartfelt smile. "Now, remember that I said I will let such things fade into absolution, but only as long as they do not persist. Tell me now, are there any present who find me false, that what I have said so far has not come directly from my heart and mind and that I do not hold such things to be true and self-evident?" The silence was broken by fervent yet genuine protests from all assembled that such was not the case, and a few began to weep openly. Seeing this reaction, some of the tension and sadness visibly left Salazar's face, and he rewarded his audience with a wide, genuine smile, which stunned them once more into silence. "I appreciate your enthusiasm, but rest assured that I know your hearts are true. This is why I have decided to do this, for I believe that we all are deserving of a fresh start, a new beginning, where we can once more revive such beliefs and bring the wizarding world into a golden age that it hasn't known for far too long. I may be a relic from the past, but I will continue to work for our future alongside my colleagues, my friends, and my charges, whom each have the potential to change the wizarding world in ways to benefit all. It will not be easy, and will not happen overnight, but thanks to the efforts of a few the foundation has been already been laid. We would be fools to waste this chance, and while I have been called many things over the years, I have never been called a fool. Will you, students of Hogwarts, take this chance to help repair some of the widespread damage that has been done to your brethren?" A deafening cheer now broke the silence as the students lept off of the benches, shouting their allegiance to not only the school, but to Salazar himself, an act which I think surprised even him. I can see now that he did not overestimate his skills as an orator, for never before I think have I seen a crowd so completely swept up in a speech.

Grinning widely, he now turned to the faculty, who were still sitting stunned from the onslaught of recent revelations. "Ah yes, my dear professors, those who have sought to continue the traditions that we began, do not think that I have forgotten about you. However, I would care to address you in private, for there are some subjects that I do not wish to broach in public." Turning his attentions back to the students, he raised one hand to silence the still deafening cheers. "Now, I know that I have already taken enough of your meal time, but I beg of you to hear me out, for there is one more issue that I wish to address before I take my leave of you tonight. I know that, even today, House rivalries run deeper than they should. When you interact with students from a different house from this point on, I beg of you to think of the deep and true friendship that we all shared and stay true to that spirit of camaraderie. Everyone has their strengths and weaknesses, and we can all learn from each other. Just remember that because someone has the traits of a different House that they are in no way inferior." This statement was met with cheers once more, and recognizing his success Salazar once more got an impish gleam in his eyes and gave them a half bow before holding up the hand for silence once more. "Now, we're going to have a lot of time to get to know each other, since I am going nowhere, so I will leave you to your evening repast." His mischievous nature began to come to the forefront once more as he continued. "And considering the bombshells that I've dropped on you tonight, I am confident that I can, ahem, persuade your current teachers into declaring tomorrow a school holiday, as well as dropping the curfew for tonight." A sly, conspiratorial grin dominated his face as he gave them all a playful wink. "Have fun, and don't do anything I wouldn't do my dears. Now, I'll take my leave of you for this night, for there are other issues I must address."

With a dramatic bow, he turned around to face the faculty, giving them a rather wicked grin as he crooked his finger and gestured that they should follow him. As he strode out of the Hall, the students began to cheer and laugh, and I can't say that I blame them, for what student doesn't like to see their professors get taken down a peg. Not wanting to miss the show, we left our roles as wall supports and followed the stunned and now twitching professors. We had gone unnoticed until now, but in Salazar's immediate absence all attention was now drawn to our egress, and our appearances, especially Anubis's, prompted a new wave of cheers, shocked cries, and the occasional wolf whistle, which pleased the grinning god to no end. We followed the assembly into an unused classroom, which Salazar made more user-friendly with a wave of his hand, adding abundant seating for those present. Everyone save myself, Anubis, and my new familiar, who somehow managed to get his claws on some firewhiskey and was showing the effects, sat in silent dread as they faced a being that they only had read about, one with power to rival if not eclipse any wizard known, and one that had already expressed displeasure with how the school had been run to this point. Anubis and I shared a glance and decided to sit back and enjoy the show, to the point that Anubis summoned a bag of popcorn and offered to share it with me. With a quick spell to muffle the crunching, I accepted his offer and settled back to watch the fireworks knowing that I was exempt. Salazar paused for a moment, making more than a few squirm in their seats, but finally turned his burning gaze upon his captive audience with a look that can only be found elsewhere on a parent expressing displeasure with a small child. I only hoped that I could hold back the snickers as my colleagues experienced the sudden awakening that I had the good fortune to ease into earlier. I would not bet that my snack partner would have such restraint.

"I know that, from the speech I just gave to the students, that some of you may be hoping for the same level of forgiveness and tolerance that I showed to them. Keep in mind that they are largely innocent of many things, and your charges, and that the lion's share of the responsibility for their actions and well being rests on your shoulders. From my time as Harry, and my own observations upon my awakening, I know that you each have in some way neglected the needs of your students, even if your only sin be the sin of omission the fact still remains that all of you have placed your own needs or desires above those of the beings that you have each taken solemn vows to guide and protect. This cannot be easily forgiven, for your actions in the present and future will shape the futures of all those that pass through these halls, and if they have been ill served then it damages not only them but everyone around them." Letting this sink in, I couldn't help but smirk as I watched my colleagues started to squirm in the silence. Meeting Sal's eyes, I silently asked if he would mind me throwing in my two cents, and he grinned and bowed in agreement. "You should all be grateful that he is trying to help you in this. My own epiphany on the subject was much harder won, so take into consideration the kindness that he is showing you." My voice, especially coming from behind them, made more than a few jump, and they began to fidget once more when they realized that I, the infamous greasy git, was already one of the converted. I could tell that Sal was trying to hold back the laughter, especially since Anubis was already snickering, but he managed to just barely contain it to continue his speech. "Well said, love. Although who would have thought that such words could apply to the bogeyman Slytherin, hm?" The term of endearment shocked even me for a moment, until I remembered his earlier words, and taking a glance at my colleagues I actually let out a snicker or two as they began swiveling their heads as if watching a tennis match. "Oh yes, one other thing I should mention, Severus and I are madly in love with each other, and will be seen in each other's company fairly frequently. My advice would be to knock first whenever entering a room that we have been seen entering, unless you have a voyeuristic streak." I couldn't help but chuckle to myself as everyone save Tom paled, Minerva dramatically so as she realized what we had been doing in the Headmaster's office. Sal actually captured her gaze for a moment and gave her a playful wink. "If you're wondering about exactly what you would be interrupting, just ask Minerva, she's already almost walked in on us."

Taking some pity on his audience, he decided to shift the topic away from our love life. "Mistakes have been made in the past, many of them the result of misinformation, selective blindness, and bigotry. However, you have now been given a second chance, since these flaws have come to light you have the abilities to work on them. I do not believe that the intent of anyone here was to truly cause harm to the students, if I did then you would not be in this room right now. As the students will work to overcome their prejudices, so should everyone here work towards building a stronger, unified school, one that will never find itself in such dire straits that the living magic of the school itself enabled my long-dormant soul to be reborn in order to save all that we once held dear. You are probably wondering how I know this. It makes a lot more sense when one takes into account the fact that I am the one that imbued the school with this living magic with my first dying breath long ago, and apparently my subconscious, dying will included a clause that, should the school ever need me once more, I would be reborn to save the school from those that would destroy it. Such was my love for this institution then, and such is it now. I was not aware of it then, nor doing my time as Harry Potter, but I am aware of it now that I have been fully restored to my former glory." He smirked at this, a wry look entering his eyes. "My new life now, though, has nothing to do with the school whatsoever. Rather, it was a rather pleasant and unexpected surprise that was planned and plotted quite successfully behind my back. I will be forever grateful for this third chance at life, where I actually have a chance to see the fruits of our labours grow and develop, and spend time with my friends and the one I love." He paused to send me a loving look, which I returned, and then returned to addressing our now very confused and unsettled colleagues.

"Things will change, from this point in. There is no fault in preferring one House to another, but such ideas should not be taken out on the students, nor should professors take extra House points from someone just because they are in a different house. I know that it happens more frequently than any would care to admit. And of course, there is the issue of child abuse." He paused here, his eyes becoming steely and almost dangerous. "Don't forget that, for six years, a student that everyone here had contact with slipped through the cracks, as it were. The many, many obvious signs of physical and emotional abuse that child possessed were either ignored entirely or not acted upon, and I am not sure which is the greater offense. Granted, I was quite skilled at covering up most of it, but even strangers at the supermarket would ask me if I was okay. This lapse is inexcusable, and I will ensure that everyone here does everything within their power to make sure that this unfortunate occurrence will not happen again. If you suspect anything but feel ill equipped to deal with it, find another professor who might be able to help, or come seek me out so that the issue can be addressed." He paused for a moment, letting the importance of his statements sink in. "So, tell me, are there any other issues that need to be addressed? Feel free to voice whatever you think, this is an open forum."

There was yet another moment of silence from those assembled, each one trying to think of something else to present, when surprisingly Minerva stood to address us. "Master Slytherin,", she started, but was halted by Sal. "Please Minerva, call me Sal or Salazar, I have no need for such formalities." She seemed somewhat unsettled, but heeded his words. "Very well then, Salazar, I do have an issue that I confess has been weighing in my mind for some time now. I have tried to lead this school as best I can in my role of Acting Headmaster since Albus's... disappearance, and it shames me to find that I am not well suited for the job. I confess that I have acted as you have described in the past, and I fear that those traits carried over into my new position." She raised her head to meet Sal's gaze, her bravery stirring with each word successfully uttered. "I have given this a lot of thought, and I decided long ago that once someone with the strength, integrity, and affection for this school came along, I would step down and let that person take my place, if they so desired. The only reason my hand has been stayed was that I could not find anyone who fit the role, until now." I could see the fire flash in her eyes as she threw everything she had into her next statements. "Salazar, Hogwarts needed you before, and it needs you now. You are the only person I can think of who truly has the best interests of the school at heart, has the drive to do what needs to be done, and the strength of conviction to stand behind what this school stands for. You have done so in the past, and I ask you to do so now. I think that all the faculty will support you in this, and you have already won the hearts and minds of the students, so I ask you, Salazar Slytherin, to take the role that only you can fill and lead us all into this golden age you speak of."

We were all struck speechless by this, and Salazar froze in place, staring at Minerva with a curious, stunned look. Snapping out of it somewhat, he looked towards me, a surprised, wondering expression on his face, and I could tell that he was searching for words, something that he rarely has ever had to do. I decided to break the silence, hoping that I could ease my love's mind. "Salazar, look at me.", I commanded, and grinned ever so slightly when he did so. "I think that Minerva's idea has merit, love. I of all people know that you have just returned to us, and it would be unbelievably selfish to suggest that this should happen now, but sometime in the near future would be possible. Of course, the ultimate decision lies with you, and none could fault you if you should decline, for you have already given more to this school than anyone could ever hope to give. I know that whatever you decide, that will be the right choice." I strode over towards him, walking around to embrace him from behind, and leaned down to whisper in his ear, "Have faith in yourself, love, for we all do."

He closed his eyes and leaned into my embrace, cocking his head to listen to my heartbeat, and after a lengthly stretch of silence with everyone in the room frozen as in a tableau, Salazar lifted his head off of my chest and met the gazes of his audience. "You would support me, no matter what venture I may suggest?", he asked to the crowd, and with hardly a second of pause every head in the room nodded in the affirmative, eyes shining with eagerness and, in some cases I'm sure, unshed tears. A small, genuine smile settled on his lips, and I felt him relax infinitesimally. "Very well then, if you are so sure, then I will gladly embrace the role of Headmaster once more." He was met with confused looks with this statement. "Oh, didn't I mention, we four took yearly turns in the Headmaster role, and in the cycle I was the first. The position is nothing new to me." I think Minerva actually huffed at this bombshell of information that was delivered in such a cavalier manner, but I could not say for certain that it was her. "I will ask two things of you, though, to start. As Severus said, I have just recently woken up in my old body, and have been in this world for less than twenty-four hours at this point. I will take up the position of Headmaster, but I concur that this should not happen immediately. The decision can be announced whenever the time is right, but I feel that I need at least a couple of weeks to readjust, relax, and simply get used to my new life. During that time, I know that the press is going to have a field day with my return, and while I will not avoid them the fact remains that I will rarely leave our quarters for the duration of my recovery time for completely different reasons. When confronted, do not deny or try to hide anything. Let the truth be known, it has been stifled for far too long. I'll make some of my notes and recollections available to fill in any basic gaps of information. These are my terms, what do you say?" As one, all of our colleagues nodded and vocalized their agreements, which apparently satisfied Salazar. "Since that is the case, I will take my leave of you for this night, I know that this is a lot to absorb. Oh, and if you would be so kind, play along with the no curfew and day off thing, I think that everyone needs that time to adjust." With this he stood and turned to face me, taking my hand in his and leading me out the door. I glanced at Anubis and his partner in crime, who was currently sitting on Flitwick's head looking at him as if trying to figure out if he was edible, to see if they would follow us out, but with a shake of the head Anubis gestured that we should head back by ourselves. Giving me a wink in a friendly yet slightly disturbing manner, he turned his attention back to the assembled figures whom, realizing exactly who was standing behind them, began to glance at him nervously. Salazar and I shared a look at this, shrugged as one, and rushed out of the room, not wanting to really know what thoughts were racing through the twisted minds of the Terrible Two.

Almost immediately upon our return to our chambers, Salazar leaned against the closed door, visibly relieved and more than a bit exhausted from his exertions today. Giving me a sly look as he realized my concern, he grinned and looked towards the bedroom, running his agile tongue over almost sinfully sensual lips. "Never fear Sev, I'm just glad to be done with that. I'm still more than energetic enough to hold you to your earlier promises...", he trailed off as he adjusted his leaning position, cocking his hip slightly and running his hand up and down his smooth, flat, but still clothed abdomen. "Well, I think that I've earned my proper welcome back tonight...", he started to say, but before he could finished I strode over and scooped him up in my arms bridal style, crushing his lips to mine as his arms wrapped around my neck. Giving him an utterly wicked look, I carried him to the bedroom and set him down so that he was standing in front of me, encircled by my arms as I gazed into his eyes, near level with mine. "Sal, as fetching as that robe looks on you, I think that we are both far too overdressed."

With a sly grin, Sal gave me an affectionate, tender kiss and pushed me gently into a sitting position on the bed, taking a step back as he struck a pose. "Well, Severus my love, I suppose that I will have to do something about that." Running one hand up his torso, he began to sway his hips slightly as he slowly unfastened the almost invisible clasps holding the robe closed. With each clasp undone, more and more creamy pale skin was revealed, teasing me with the smooth texture and dramatic contract. As Salazar worked his way down to his waist, I quickly realized that, at the very least, he had neglected to wear a shirt underneath this entire time, and my steadily growing arousal spiked. Giving me a seductive, playful glance, he raised one hand to his mouth and began to lightly suckle his fingers in an impossibly erotic manner as he unfastened the last clasp, positioned just below his navel. Running his newly wet fingers up and down his chest, he gave one shrug that sent the elegant robe sliding down his body, revealing that he had not only neglected to wear a shirt, but any clothes at all underneath that robe. Standing there in his full naked glory, his erection jutting out proudly without an ounce of shame, he ran one elegant, slick hand over his nipple and groaned lightly as his other hand ghosted over the evidence of his arousal. I nearly came undone at the living wet dream standing before me, and with a haste I did not know I was capable of I removed my own attire, an act that made Sal smile at me tenderly. Returning his look with a lustful one of my own, I slid off of the bed, kneeling before him, and before he could react I took him into my mouth, making him gasp in shock and moan in lust at the same time. Savouring that unique taste that was him, I took my time running my tongue up and down the soft, firm flesh, occasionally drawing him into my mouth, using what little deep throating experience I had to make him write and moan uncontrollably. Bracing and supporting his hips with a firm but gentle grip with one hand, I ran one finger up and down his perineum in time with the movements of my tongue, and when I gently circled his tight yet yielding entrance with one fingertip he gave one loud cry as warning, pumping his seed into my throat as I somehow managed to swallow each precious drop.

Realizing that I was the only thing keeping him upright, I stood and eased his sated and sweat-coated body onto the bed, gazing down on him and once more marveling at my good fortune. After a moment to recover from his rather powerful orgasm, he gazed up at me with an utterly wanton look, shifting his hips and parting his legs in invitation. Unable to resist such a well-delivered invitation, I leaned down over him and took his mouth in a slow, loving, passionate kiss quite unlike the frenzied ones from our earlier couplings. "If you think that I'm done with you, I'm afraid that you are quite mistaken on that count...", I whispered into his ear, and just that made him moan lustily once more as his erection began to rally. Taking my time, I ran a line of kisses down from his sensual lips across his torso and abdomen, tasting every part of him as he lay there, succumbing to my desire and relaxing more and more under my ministrations. Slowly I kissed my way down his body, nuzzling his inner thighs and tasting the delicate flesh with the tip of my tongue, tracing patterns on the sensitive skin that made his erection jump as if it had a life of its own. Gazing up at him, overcome with the sensations, I placed one playful kiss on the tip of his erection, tasting the delicate drop forming there before I slid my tongue all the way down, pressing a kiss on the tender flesh of his perineum before running my tongue around his slowly relaxing opening, making him jump in surprise that quickly turned to a lustful haze. Holding his hips down, I continued to taste his now rapidly relaxing opening as he writhed and moaned, clutching the sheets in a death grip. Sensing that he couldn't take much more, I slid up his body, deftly coating myself with the oil on the nightstand, and positioning myself at his entrance I gazed into his eyes, which were glazed in lustful anticipation. "I love you, Salazar,", I whispered as I began to slide into him, making him moan and hiss at the same time, "and you are mine, never forget..." As I finished my statement, I finished sliding into him, impaling him fully with virtually no resistance, and in his gaze I could see the same love I just expressed reflected back at me, despite him being too far overcome with lust at the moment to form coherent words or thoughts. Smiling down at him, I held his gaze as I slowly began to rock in and out, savouring the almost overwhelming feelings and sensations washing over both of us at that moment, and never breaking his gaze. Our coupling may not have had the frenzied nature of previous times, yet all of the passion remained, and after what seemed to be both an eternity and a brief moment, we both succumbed to the sensations and came as one with no less intensity.

I collapsed on top of him, panting as if I had just run a marathon, which brought an amused chuckle to his lips. "Mmm, I feel more welcome already...", he murmured in that sultry, captivating voice of his, and summoning what strength was available to me at the moment I captured his gaze once more, a sly grin on my face. "Sal, if you think that this was the extent of your welcome back, you are mistaken. You offered them at least a couple weeks to rest, and do you really think that we will really leave this bed for more than the basic necessities? I plan to drive you crazy with lust, pushing you over the brink until you are completely overwhelmed by the sensations over, and over, and over again." I ran one hand through his surprisingly soft and fine hair, giving him a reassuring smile. "No need to rush things, we have all the time in the world to savour each other properly." Seeing his gentle, almost shy grin at my words, I eased out of him and settled us into a proper sleeping position, him resting on his side facing me as I wrapped my arms around him, entwining our legs and resting our foreheads almost against the other. "I love you, Sev.", he managed to whisper before the fatigue of the day overcame him, and almost instantly his breathing settled into that of restful, peaceful sleep. Gazing at him once more before my own fatigue overcame me, I marveled anew at the dynamic, charismatic, unique, and noble man in my arms, one that existed in the darkness for so long but, now surrounded by friends, family, and loved ones, will emerge into the light once more. We will ensure that, no matter what the future may hold, this unbelievably precious man will never again fall prey to the lies and slander that plagued him before. Feeling sleep start to claim me, I kiss his lips gently one more time before joining him in the sweet release of peaceful, rejuvenating sleep, a rare thing for both of us. We shall see what the morrow will bring, and embrace it fully, for we are now free in ways that neither of us have been before. Good night, my love.


	39. An Offer From Vetis

_Note from the author:_

_For all those who have enjoyed this story, I am glad that you have done so. I do have a sequel in the works, so this will not be the last you hear from me. _

_I have something of a wicked streak of my own, which is why I have something of a little contest regarding the sequel. I wish to make some type of signature-style image, so here's the deal: Email me an image somehow featuring something along the lines of "I heart Vetis", and depending of the level of creativity you show I will reward each and every image with a preview of the sequel. Something along the lines of just holding up a sign would earn at least a few sentences, but as the creativity increases so does the length of the sneak peak. Finally, the one that I decide is the most creative will not only receive a good-size chunk for a preview but will also have the opportunity to have a cameo in the sequel. With my eclectic writing style, I can work in pretty much any character type, and I will work with the winner on this. Send the pictures not to the email listed in my profile but the following address: Or, if you prefer, you can host the images on something like Photobucket and send me the link, no worries._

_I will keep this up until I post the first chapter of the sequel, which considering my schedule will be something like a month, giving all you twisted lil shutterbugs a chance to really show off. _

_Until next time, my freaky little darlings._

_ grins and poofs out in a cloud of vanilla-scented smoke _


End file.
